The Misadventures of Shadow Squad
by laloga
Summary: Even in the midst of war, it's nice to know that there are some entertaining moments. Features OCs. Up now: a clone can only be called "shiny" so many times...
1. Only You Can Prevent

**Only You Can Prevent...**

_A/N: This 'incident' is alluded to in _Untouchable _and takes place sometime after _All or Nothing_._

"How long has it been?" With its lush jungles and rolling hills, the planet of Agamar was beautiful and all, but Stonewall couldn't have cared less about something like that, as he had much more pressing concerns on his mind at the moment. He flexed his legs and tried to stand even taller to see through the thick forest, looking in the direction of their camp and trying to ignore the bite of agitation that he felt deep within his gut.

Beside him, Weave checked his chrono. "Almost an hour. She said to give her at least an hour." The two men exchanged glances. Though his brother's expression was unreadable through his bucket, Stonewall thought he could sense Weave's apprehension as well.

The captain sighed and tried not to fidget any more than he already was. "I know, I know..." He frowned and made to step forward, then thought better of it as he recalled the adamant tone of Kalinda's voice when she'd ordered the clones to _stay away _from their camp. _She wants to do something nice for us...I don't know why, but that makes me _really _nervous. _He sighed again and wondered if he could enhance the zoom-capabilities on his HUD with only the power of his mind.

Behind them – seemingly without a care – Crest, Traxis and Milo were engrossed in an impromptu arm-wrestling tournament, crouching on either side of a fallen log while they took turns trying to best one another. Crest won the round against Milo and let out a whoop of satisfaction before turning to Stonewall and Weave. "It should be fine...she's a Jedi and all...what's the worst that could happen?"

Even as Stonewall tried not to flinch at the words, Traxis spoke, moving to take Milo's place. "Don't you know never to say that? _Di'kut."_

Milo moved to stand beside the clone captain and lifted his hand to shade his eyes as he scanned the forest, his helmet tucked under his arm. "I'm pretty stealthy...I can try to check on her if you want."

"Sneak up on a Jedi?" Crest said as he faced his scarred brother, rubbing his hands in anticipation of another victory. "Good luck with that, shiny." Traxis grunted in agreement and the two clones clasped hands and stared at each other while their arms strained. The others turned and watched the contest, though Stonewall's eyes kept flicking back in the direction of their camp; he couldn't have said what he was hoping – or dreading – he'd see.

After several minutes Crest's hand was slammed down against the rough bark of the tree and Traxis sat back with a satisfied nod. The bald clone sighed and rubbed at his wrist, then glanced back at direction of their camp. "How long's it been now?"

Milo replied. "Hour and five." He shot a look at the captain, whose shoulders were tense.

"That's it," Stonewall said, stepping forward. "I'm going in."

But he was spared from doing so when the Jedi emerged from the forest behind them as if she had stepped out of thin air; the front of her tunic was lifted up to contain an assortment of berries and fruits and she wore a sardonic expression while she smiled at the captain. "You weren't thinking of breaking your word to me, were you, Stone?" Her voice was chiding.

He tapped his chrono. "It's been over an hour, Kalinda...in fact-" Something was wrong, he could just _feel _it_._ Stonewall removed his helmet, sniffing the air with a wariness borne of long days spent preparing for the very worst. Indeed, his stomach dropped to his knees and when he spoke his words were clipped. "What's that smell?"

Weave followed the action, holding his bucket beneath his arm and glancing around. "I smell it too...is something burning?"

Kalinda's dark eyes widened and she let out a curse before turning to race for the camp, the fruits forgotten, pattering to the mossy forest floor. Stonewall waved the others along and they followed in her wake; soon the squad was faced with what appeared to be a forest-fire in its fledgling state. The entire area where Crest had set up the field food-prep station was aflame, thick, black smoke was drifting through the trees surrounding their camp.

Falling into familiar patterns engraved into his mind by a lifetime of drills, Stonewall barked orders to the others: Milo and Weave raced for their nearby ship to fetch the fire-extinguishers while the rest of them used blankets, water-jugs, or even their own booted feet to snuff out the edges of the flames to keep them from spreading. Kalinda even managed to halt some of it with her Force-abilities, coaxing the flames away from the main body of the forest, which was a little too dry for Stonewall's liking at the present moment.

But it was quite some time before they won the battle against the fire.

Finally, when most of the camp was in charred ruins and the troopers were exhausted, hot, and covered in soot, Stonewall turned to Kalinda and tried very hard not to let himself appear too frustrated. But before he could say anything, she shook her head and gave him a wide – albeit nervous – smile. "Surprise...I made dinner!" She grimaced as she looked around the area. "Well, I tried, anyway."

"I think it stopped being dinner about an hour ago, boss," Crest said as he gingerly lifted the source of the fire, a blackened saucepan with unrecognizable lumps of _something _within, now melted to the metal.

The clone captain closed his eyes and took a deep breath; when he looked back at the Jedi Knight, she was watching him carefully. Again, he opened his mouth to speak; again, she beat him to the punch. "I guess I got a bit...distracted looking for dessert." Another smile, soft and tentative. "I'm sorry."

"Nothing a few new tents, cooking station, and...er, saucepan won't fix," Weave said as he and Milo examined the tattered and charred ruins of their tent.

Milo nodded. "I never liked that tent anyway...it had a bunch of holes."

"And it added some excitement to the day, after all," Crest added in his jovial tone. "In fact, I was so distracted, I let Trax win. Good thing for you, huh, buddy?" He grinned at the scarred clone, who shook his head but said nothing as he took in the devastation.

But she was still looking at Stonewall with a hopeful expression, and as much as he wanted to be annoyed, he just didn't have it within him at the moment, particularly when her face transformed as he smiled at her. "Next time you want to do something nice for us...don't let it entail you going near anything flammable. Please promise me this."

She exhaled and studied the remnants of their camp before nodding and lifting her hand to her brow in a salute. "Copy that, Captain." Kali gave him another smile and he felt his stomach do the strange flip it always did when she looked at him like that.

Crest still held the saucepan and had taken to poking the mess with a stick. "So...who's hungry?"

* * *

><p><em>These will be updated as I think of them...and if you have any suggestions or anything you'd like to see, please let me know! :D<em>


	2. System

_A/N: If you're keeping track, this takes place between _Warriors of Shadow_ and _Untouchable_. Also, if you have a suggestion for an upcoming "misadventure," or something you'd like to see, feel free to let me know! Thanks for reading!_

* * *

><p><strong>System<strong>

"Milo, I don't think you should-" Kalinda's jaw snapped shut when a spray of bright-green fluid coated her face and arms as she knelt over the engine compartment of their ship; below her, Weave and Milo had frozen in place, the latter's hand hovering over a now-open compressor valve. The Jedi Knight gave a long exhale and used the sleeve of her tunic to wipe her eyes clear before looking down at the two clones, who were gaping at her in horrified silence.

Though he had been beside her, Crest had ducked to avoid the worst of the spray. His shoulders were shaking as he laughed, but a dark look from the Jedi caused his expression to smooth.

Finally, Milo found his voice and words began falling out of his mouth in an almost indiscernible rush. "General Halcyon...I'm so sorry! It was an accident, I swear...I didn't mean to spray you with that-"

She held up her hand and shook her head. "It's okay, Milo. I know you didn't do it on purpose. Just..." she paused and tilted her head towards the hatch of the ship; the clones followed her gaze.

"It's the captain, isn't it?" Crest asked, his tone wary.

As Kalinda nodded, Milo paled. He cast a panicked glance at Weave, who gave him a shrug, then looked back at the Jedi, who had risen to greet the rest of their squad. Looking at the hatch again, the younger clone gave an audible gulp. No one said anything as the clones clambered out of the engine compartment and everyone faced the opening hatch door.

* * *

><p>Captain Stonewall and Traxis were exhausted from their three-day long recce mission, but were also glad to be back among the squad; however, once he stepped aboard, Stonewall took in the stiff postures of his crew as well as Kalinda's fluid-covered state with a raised brow. "What's up? Kali...what's that all over you?" His voice was cautious. Beside him, Traxis studied his brothers, but said nothing.<p>

The Jedi sighed and gave a pointed look at the three clones who stood beside her. "Guys, I'm going to go take a shower." Immediately, the soldiers moved in unison to stand at parade rest before the far bulkhead of the ship, backs towards the 'fresher. They were silent.

Traxis started chuckling, but Stonewall cast Kalinda a curious – if somewhat apprehensive – look. "Care to explain what this is about?"

She sighed again, her face clouding over before she looked up at him. Her smile was a little too wide and he felt his stomach start churning. "It's not a big deal," she said in a quiet voice. "Everything's fine..."

"Kali..." He was tired and sore and dearly wanted nothing more than to fall into bed for a few days, preferably beside her, but something in the Jedi's mannerisms was _off. _He shot a look at his men, who – though he knew they couldn't see him – seemed to tense under his gaze. Beside him, Traxis appeared to be biting back another laugh.

"It was an accident." She met Stone's gaze. At his raised brow she sighed again. "Okay, here it is: Weave saw me naked."

Silence.

Stonewall blinked once, hard, and looked at her. "Weave saw _you_ naked?"

She did not look away even though he thought she probably wanted to. "Yes. But it was barely anything...I mean, his angle was all wrong. He didn't get...a good look."

"_Weave_ saw you naked?" He resisted the urge to glare at his brother.

Kalinda took another breath and then shook her head. "It was an accident, Stone. They didn't mean to...we had a mis-communication about the 'fresher and...well, it's not really important, because now we have a system in place, as you can see." She lifted her hand to indicate the three clones who were facing the wall, their postures indicating that they desired nothing more than to disappear into the bulkhead of the ship.

Stonewall frowned. "_They _didn't mean to?" He swore out of the corner of his eye he noticed Crest grimace, but decided to focus on Kali at the moment.

She bit her lip, then looked abashed. "Well...Crest was next to him, you see, and-"

"Crest_? Crest _saw you...?" He didn't even want to look at them, but felt he had to, now. All three clones edged a little closer to the bulkhead.

Stonewall sighed and rubbed at his forehead as she continued. "It wasn't much, Stone. Just a little of the front -" she paused and he saw her face flame as she indicated a section of her body. "-area. Nothing major. And it was quick."

"_Really_ quick," Crest interjected. "Lightspeed."

"I wouldn't even breathe too loud, if I were you, baldy," Traxis said, his tone almost jovial as he watched the spectacle.

Stonewall didn't trust himself to speak to any of them at the moment, so he took another deep breath and tried to calm down. _It doesn't matter. It's fine. It was an accident. None of them meant any..._He paused in his thoughts and looked at her again; she was still flushing and, to top it off, was twisting her hands in front of her, seemingly heedless of the sticky fluid that coated her arms and face. "Kali...?"

She cleared her throat and looked up at him. "It was just a quick look, Stone," she said in a careful voice even as he could tell she was trying not to wince. "And it was a terrible angle. It's not like he got Milo's view or anything."

Again, silence.

"Milo..." Stonewall did turn then, to look at the youngest clone, whose nose was all but smashed into the wall, and if he didn't know better, he would have sworn that his brother visibly shuddered when he heard his name. Stone looked back at her, mouth open but unable to form any words.

"Milo got the, er...best view," she said quickly. "I wish I could say otherwise, but...well." She grimaced again. "Let's just say that the term 'front and center' applies here."

"Front and center." The clone captain repeated her words and ran a hand across his face with a sigh before shaking his head. The entire ship was silent. Finally he looked at her. "But you have a system, now?"

Kalinda indicated the clones' posture before the bulkhead and nodded. "Fool-proof. I promise. It's just such a small ship..." She frowned. "I'll see what I can do about getting us a bigger one."

"That would be nice," he replied. Another moment passed and she met his eyes; he could read her embarrassed expression. Reaching for her, he lifted the front edge of her tunic to wipe the remaining fluid off of her mouth before giving her a quick but firm kiss. "You said something about a shower?" He couldn't help but smile when relief crossed her features.

"I'll be fast," she said, before she leaned up to his ear and whispered something that made his own skin redden, though he grinned and nodded to her, watching as she slipped off, stopping only to grab a fresh set of clothes.

Traxis had taken a seat at the galley table and was digging into a pack of trail mix, looking from the captain to his brothers with unconcealed amusement when Stonewall turned and stepped over to them. The tension emanating from the three men was taut, and for a moment he really did wonder exactly what they thought he'd do. _Start shouting? Yell at them? Make them do extra chores and drills? _As it was he simply stood there for several long minutes, listening to the running water from the direction of the 'fresher and watching them grow exponentially more and more anxious; he had to admit, it did bring him a measure of satisfaction to note their discomfort. _The anticipation of a punishment is usually the worst part._

Finally he reached forward and tapped the youngest clone on the shoulder. "Milo?"

The clone nearly leaped out of his skin; he started and managed to smack his face against the bulkhead before he turned and gave the captain a stiff salute. "Sir, yes sir."

Stonewall bit back the urge to laugh at him, instead giving him his best steely glare. "Prep the ship. We're leaving."

"Right away, Captain. _Sir_." The younger clone scrambled to the helm, relieved to be away from the officer, who turned his gaze to Weave and Crest.

"Get this cleaned up," he said, indicating the engine compartment. They nodded and hurried to the area. For a moment he watched them before he sighed and stepped to the cabin that he shared with the Jedi Knight, with every intention of stripping off his armor and collapsing into bed; the knowledge that – of all of them – he would not be sleeping alone was enough to make him smile, his agitation over the...mishap forgotten in the wake of far more pleasant thoughts.

* * *

><p>After the captain slipped out of the room, Weave looked over at Crest, who was hastily putting the remaining tools away. "I'm proud of you."<p>

The bald clone paused. "What for?"

"For not giving him the thumbs-up like you said you were thinking about whenever..."

Crest shushed him, glancing at the cabin door warily while Traxis snickered behind him. Once he was certain that Stonewall wasn't going to emerge and knock him around, he sighed and grinned at his brother. "Yeah, well...I guess I'm smarter than I look. Not that I'd...you know..._want _to cause any friction there," he gestured vaguely towards the cabin. "But you have to admit, he's a lucky man."

Traxis' throat cleared; Weave and Crest looked up to see the now-clean Jedi Knight regarding them with a mixture of amusement and irritation. "What was that about Stonewall?"

The bald clone's face flamed. "Er...he's lucky because you're so kind and _forgiving._ And understanding. The model Jedi, actually, in my humble-"

She sighed and looked at Traxis. "Do me a favor and keep them in line for the next few hours, would you?" The scarred clone saluted and she stepped into the cabin without another look back.

Weave rolled his eyes and they crawled out of the engine compartment; he gave Milo the all-clear and the transport began to whine as the engines came online. "What was that about you being smarter than you look, Crest?"

Crest sighed again. "Yeah, well. You can't win 'em all, I guess."


	3. CETOC

**CETOC**

"This shouldn't take too long," Kalinda said as she looked up at Captain Stonewall. "But if you guys could try not to wander too far afield, I'd appreciate it." The squad was aboard a public transport on the pristine world of Chandrila, and their general was on her way to speak at an assembly in a local student government session. The world was known for its diplomatic relations and its emphasis on pacifism; the Jedi had been asked to send a representative to take part in a symposium on the wars. Kalinda and her squad had been closest at the time, and though it was an unusual assignment, Stonewall found that he was glad for a little break.

If for no other reason than he got to see Kali dressed in clean robes, her hair loose and flowing down her back with her face free of dirt, a first for him in the few weeks since their mission to Japarran. The memory of that planet made his throat tighten and his stomach do a flip – in a good way – especially when she smiled at him.

Blinking, he realized that she was waiting for an answer, so he nodded. "Of course, General." The others were nearby; no one knew of the recent _change_ in the Jedi and the clone captain's relationship, so he always reverted to his usual formality in the presence of his men. "We'll stick close to the conference center."

"Thank you." Behind them, Crest and Traxis were softly bickering about something – he hadn't been listening – but when the Jedi turned to them they quieted in an instant. "If you guys behave yourselves, I hear there are some fantastic local restaurants here, and I actually have a few credits to spare. Maybe we can eat some non-rations for once...provided everyone stays out of trouble." Her voice was wry and Stonewall tried not to smile as the rest of his squad saluted. Despite the fact that they all were wearing their buckets, he could detect their eagerness through the snap of their movements.

The Jedi shot him a bemused look before turning to the doorway of the slowing transport. _She really does want us to enjoy ourselves, _he thought as they vehicle approached the massive plaza in front of the building where the symposium was to take place. _Strange. I'm still getting used to the idea. _

Behind his own bucket, he smiled when she gave him another, softer smile. _To a lot of ideas, actually._

Moments later they were seeing her off; he noted how her robes rippled behind her as she took the stairs to the pillared building. One of the Chandrilan representatives met her at the entrance and guided the Jedi inside. Once she'd gone, he looked back at his squad, who were standing in line behind him at parade-rest. "You heard her. Let's try not to cause any excitement while we're here." He nodded to a nearby section of wall that was out of the way of the passers-by, some of whom were starting to file into the building. "Let's just keep out of the way for now."

"You sure we can't take a look around, Captain?" Crest asked, indicating the busy streets around them.

Milo shook his head. "She said to stay close, Crest. That sounded like an order to me." But his voice was hopeful. Weave and Traxis exchanged glances but said nothing.

Stonewall tried not to sigh audibly. _I'm curious as well, but I don't want to risk causing any trouble. She asked us to stay close, so that's what we're going to do. _"Let's just relocate, for now. I'm sure she wouldn't mind doing a little sight-seeing later." They moved to the far wall of the courtyard, again at parade-rest; passers-by regarded them with varying levels of curiosity and Stonewall wondered at the picture that they presented: five men, identical in height and build, dressed in uniform white plastoid – except he wore a kama and pauldron, his armor red-striped to indicate his rank – their posture signifying that they were ready for anything, should the need arise.

Time passed.

Gradually, the plaza began to fill with people, which was not unusual, except for the fact that they were clearly civilians – not intent on attending the symposium – but who seemed to have another reason for their presence. Even as Stonewall blinked in the corner of his HUD to zoom in, Weave spoke up behind him. "Are they...are they carrying signs?"

"They are," Milo replied. "Look...that one says '_clones are people, too_.' Well, obviously. I mean, we're not Wookiees." He snorted and gave a slight shake of his head.

Indeed, many of the newcomers were carrying various hand-made signs; some of them even wore shirts with similar slogans. From his place, Stonewall could make out a female Human who wore one that read: CETOC. Beneath his bucket, he frowned. _What the kriff does 'CETOC' mean? _

Traxis cleared his throat. "Looks like we're about to make hard contact." He was right; several members of the group had spotted them and were making their way over to the soldiers, their expressions earnest.

"Notice something?" Crest said, his voice a little too eager. "They're mostly _women._"

Stonewall blinked in surprise and realized that his brother was correct: most of the civilians were female and were converging on the clones with alacrity. He shifted in his stance. "Hold your positions. We're not here to socialize." Even as he said the words, his squad was suddenly surrounded by a number of Chandrilan females of various ages, all of whom were whispering amongst themselves and looking at him and his brothers with nothing short of fascination.

Over the private comm, Crest chuckled. "I think I like Chandrila. The scenery's nice, anyway."

"Keep your mind on the..." Stonewall trailed off as one of the women approached him, her eyes running over his armor in a manner that made him a bit uncomfortable. She had pale hair and was wearing a shirt that had a picture of a clone trooper emblazoned across the front, the image stretched across a rather ample...He shook his head and decided to keep his gaze on her face.

"You're clones, right?" Her voice was hopeful. Behind her, several other women shared the expression.

_What gave it away? _The clone captain nodded, keeping his tone respectful, but neutral. "Yes, ma'm."

At this, she turned to her companions. "They're real, I told you." Looking back at him, she gave an apologetic smile. "We had some friends who managed to get some armor and tried to play a prank on us last week. I was just checking."

"She can check more than-" Crest was cut off as Stonewall spoke over the comm.

"Not now, Crest." The captain took a breath and switched back to his exterior mic. "Ma'm, I'm sorry, but we're not really here to socialize. You should move along. Please."

But rather than listen to him, the blond turned to glare up at the building, after which she gestured to the clones while speaking to her companions. "See? _This_ is why we do what we do...they can't even _talk_ to civilians." She looked back at him, somehow managing to make her expression stricken even as she continued to run her eyes across his armor in an appraising manner. "You _poor_ things."

At this, Traxis snorted. "Poor things? Us? _Please_."

"Captain..." Milo's voice was wary as two of the women approached him. From what Stonewall could make out, they were trying to get him to remove his helmet. "I _know_ I'm a person...what's their deal?" He stepped backward to get out of their grasp.

Stonewall looked back at the young woman in front of him. "Please, ma'm. We're just trying to do our jobs. I'd appreciate it if you and your friends cleared the area." Her eyes were huge and filled with a disturbing mixture of pity and craving while she gazed at him, and he found himself growing irritated at the expression. _I don't know what to make of the way she'd looking at me, but I'm officially _not_ a fan._

"You don't have to follow the Jedi's orders," she said in a low, urgent voice. "You can run away...start a real life somewhere." Her companions nodded, some of them shooting dirty looks in the direction of the building where Kali had gone.

_Run away? Is she brain-dead? _Stonewall bit back a sharp retort and tried to keep his voice soldier-calm. "That's not necessary, ma'm." _What can I say to make them leave?_

Beyond him however, Crest had already removed his helmet and was grinning at a woman with short, black hair even as she regarded him the way one would look at something small and furry in an animal shelter. "Are you just called by a number?" she asked, her voice filled with pity. "Do you even have a name?"

"Sure do. I'm Crest," he said, lifting his thumb to indicate himself. "What's your name?" Something about the way he spoke made the woman giggle, and Stonewall rolled his eyes beneath his bucket.

Before she could reply, he decided to act. "Atten-_shun_," he said in a commanding voice, noting with no small amount of satisfaction that all of his men – Crest included – snapped upright and stood stock-still. Some of the women drew back with widened eyes and he nodded to himself. _Just to remind them that we _are _soldiers...not exactly cuddly. Maybe now they'll leave us alone._

But his words had the opposite effect on the Chandrilans, who only seemed to look at the clones with more pity. Another one, standing by Milo, shook her head. "It's true. They _are_ programmed like droids." She gave Milo a sad look. "Can you even think for yourself?"

_This is kriffing ridiculous. _Before the captain, the blond woman was still eying him like he was a piece of fresh meat.

"You can be free," she said to him, her words slow and clear, as if she were speaking to a deaf child. "Do you understand? You don't have to do this." She waved her hand to indicate his armor.

"What's the protocol for situations like this?" Milo said over the comm. "Please say we can retreat."

"I need a shower," Traxis added. One of the women had leaned against him, he'd managed to brush her off without force.

"You should take that off," the blond said to Stonewall, reaching for his bucket. "I want to see your face."

He stepped back, trying to think of the most polite way he could tell the civilian to leave them alone. "That won't be necessary, ma'm."

But behind him, Weave spoke up at last. "What does 'CETOC' mean, ma'm?" Evidently his natural curiosity outweighed his discomfort.

The woman who'd been beside Stonewall gave his brother a long look. "It stands for 'Citizens for the Ethical Treatment of Clones.' We're a group dedicated to clone rights." She glanced back at the captain, and again he saw something else in her eyes besides a desire to help his brothers.

_Kriffing hell. This woman's looking at me like..._he didn't even want to think about it, so he lifted his hands and tried to place some more distance between them. "We appreciate your concern, ma'm, but it's not necessary. We're all fine here...just trying to do our jobs."

"Our general will be back, soon," Milo added from behind him.

At this, the women glanced at each other, frowning. One of them, the one who'd been all over Traxis, gave a snort of derision. "The Jedi. Look at how they're treating you...like you're not even _people._" She shook her head even as the others nodded in agreement. "It's disgraceful."

The blond – who still had not left his side – gave him another sad look. "You are all _men,_" she said, reaching for his hand. "You aren't just mindless tools." Before he could move away, she pressed herself against him and looked up at his bucket with what was – he supposed she thought, anyway – an alluring expression. "I can show you..."

"Captain?"

Stonewall's stomach did a flip at the familiar voice, but it wasn't a good flip. It was more of the I-can't-believe-the-timing-of-this-moment variety and he turned to see Kalinda approaching from the steps; her face was blank, but he had a pretty good idea what she was thinking. "General Halcyon..."

At these words, the blond woman's demeanor shifted from sex-kitten to frightened rabbit, as she slowly turned and faced the Jedi, who was looking at her with a neutral expression. The other members of CETOC followed suit even as they kept themselves draped across Stonewall and his brothers.

Kalinda met the other woman's gaze with a calm that Stonewall admired. "What is it that you can show them, miss?"

Looking between Stonewall and Kalinda, the blond stammered gibberish for several moments. Finally she managed to squeak out: "_You're _a Jedi?"

The dark-haired woman tilted her head as if she was confused. "I am. Did you need help with something?"

"I just..." The blond took a deep breath and nearly backed away completely before she caught the eye of one of her companions, who looked equally as terrified of the Jedi. Finally, the blond seemed to mentally shake herself out of it, and she was able to meet the Jedi's gaze. "We were just talking to them."

Kalinda's reply was immediate and easy. "I can see that a lot of _talking _has been going on." She lifted her brow and nodded to the other protesters, who were still attempting to plaster themselves across the rest of the squad's armor.

"We're concerned for the well-being of _all _life-forms," the black-haired woman broke in, her hand on Crest's shoulder. Stonewall could see in the 360 view of his HUD that his brother was making every effort not to grin like a fool.

Kalinda looked thoughtful. "That's very noble, but perhaps you could go about it in a way that doesn't involve making these 'life-forms' so uncomfortable? There was a very lively debate going on a few minutes ago where your perspective would have been welcome."

"I would have hoped that a Jedi would understand," the blond said in a pouty voice. As if she was trying to illustrate a point, she wrapped her hand around the captain's waist and hugged herself to him.

_Kriffing son of a..._Stonewall knew that Kalinda couldn't read his expression behind his bucket, but he sincerely hoped that she could sense his discomfort, as no amount of effort on his part seemed enough to convince the woman that he did not, in fact, want her clinging to him.

As it was, the Jedi was silent for another moment before she spoke again. "You should know that I can sense your real intent...and it isn't as pure as you're making it out to be." She held the gaze of the blond woman while she spoke, moving her gaze to each of the others in turn; one by one, they lowered their eyes and stepped back from the clones.

But the blond refused to leave his side. Kalinda looked at him and he mentally shook his head. _This needs to end, now. _"Ma'm," he said as he extricated himself from her grasp. "We appreciate your...sentiment, but the General's correct."

"That's a nice way of saying, 'go chain yourselves to a star-crusier,'" Traxis muttered over the comm.

"Fine," the blond sniffed, stepping away. "We'll just go start another petition...come on." She waved to her compatriots and soon the members of CETOC had filed off, leaving the Jedi and the clones.

Stonewall swallowed and looked at Kalinda, who was watching the women move away with an expression that he couldn't read. "General..."

But she shook her head. "Don't worry about it, Stone." She gave him a smile and he felt himself relaxing.

"So...does it still count as trouble if we didn't start it?" Milo asked. "Because I'm starving."

Kali laughed and waved them on. "I'll let you guys off the hook this one time." As they followed her, she sidled up to the captain and spoke in a quiet voice. "You seem to have quite a way with the ladies, Stone. I don't remember reading that in your file."

His helmet concealed the fact that his face was hot. "Er...that wasn't really...I mean, she kind of..."

"Relax," she said, giving him a smile. "I'm just teasing."

Behind them, Crest spoke up again. "Watch out, General...I'll report you to CETOC."

* * *

><p><em>This didn't turn out quite as funny as I was hoping...most likely due to the subject matter I've been dealing with in my other stories. Meh. I think it's still mildly entertaining. :P<em>


	4. The Beautiful Game

_FYI: Bolo-ball is also called "Limmie."_

**The Beautiful Game**

They were seated in the common area of their small ship, the _Wayfarer, _and Kalinda Halcyon was trying not to grow impatient. Ironically, the clone captain Stonewall felt the same way, if for a different reason, and she knew him well enough to realize that he was resisting the urge to sigh as he watched her expression. "There are two teams-"

The dark-haired Jedi gave him a glare that was only a little in jest. "I know _that, _Stone_." Honestly, I'm not an idiot. Besides, he already explained that part._

"Well, you still look a little confused." He grinned as her glare deepened. "Right...so, each team's goal is to score as many points as they can. To do so, each player is allowed to kick the ball with any part of their feet or legs; you can also use your chest or head-"

"Wouldn't recommend that," Crest spoke up from his place at the helm. " The shiny tried that move last time and got a bloody nose." He chuckled at Milo, who glared at him from the co-pilot's seat, the expression highlighted by the rush of hyperspace.

Looking back at Stonewall, Kali tilted her head. "You were saying?"

"Okay: the keeper is in charge of keeping the opposing team from scoring points. He's allowed to use his hands, as well, but he's the only player with that permission. Anyone else touches the ball with their hands or arms gets fouled."

"But the keepers aren't allowed to leave the area in front of their goal," Traxis broke in. He was seated beside the Jedi at the table in the galley of the _Wayfarer,_ intent on the conversation. "Matter-of-fact, Eltair got into some trouble for that a few years back."

At this, Stonewall frowned. "You mean when Dremm's frontman tripped him? Yeah, I remember that."

These words sparked a debate between the clones about bolo-ball regulations and Kalinda felt her eyes rolling back in her head. A glance at Weave, who was seated across from her, showed her that he was feeling much the same way; though he was staring at holo-footage from a previous game in an attempt to understand the rules, his own eyes were glazing over.

_I regret ever offering to learn this gam_e, she thought with a grimace. But Stonewall had looked almost despondent when he'd approached her about it some weeks ago, as apparently bolo-ball with only four players was not remotely challenging or fun.

So she and Weave had – politely – agreed to try and learn the rules of the game, so they could all play the next time they had a spare moment. Which looked to be sooner rather than later, as they had a few days before their next mission was to start, and they would be spending the interim waiting on Naboo.

Despite the fact that she knew that the majority of the squad was desperate for a little excitement, the "debate" was getting a little out of hand, and it was only one in a long string of similar incidents. Currently, Crest's voice rose up above the others, to counter a point that Milo had made. "Like _hell_ they did, shiny. Honestly, if you expect me to believe-"

"Calm down, Crest," Stonewall replied, lifting his hands. "There's no need to get snippy."

_Always the peacemaker. _Kalinda watched him with a smile, though it faded at his next words.

"Just because you're wrong-"

"Wrong? Tell me something, Cap: as an Eltair fan, how do you live with yourself after that last season?"

Traxis spoke next. "He's right, Stonewall..."

And so on. Kali caught Weave's eye and lifted her brow. He sighed and shook his head, the expression indicating that he was just as exasperated as she was. At some point, Stonewall and Traxis had both risen from the table to the helm, and all four clones were involved in a heated debate about a match that must have happened well before any of them was alive. So she rose and slid next to Weave, who set down his datapad and looked at her.

"What is it?"

She lifted her chin to the others, still arguing about something called "off-sides." "A little irritating, aren't they?"

He sighed but his tone was curious. "You could say that." More shouting from the helm and they each winced before he looked back at her. "More than a little, actually."

"Well, I have an idea..." Leaning forward, she outlined her plan and watched as Weave grinned back, nodding and offering a few suggestions, the others oblivious. By the time that the arguing ceased, Kali was satisfied.

* * *

><p>Naboo was a beautiful planet, rife with thundering waterfalls, lush jungles and sweeping grasslands; however, only the latter of this seemed to matter to Weave's brothers as Traxis and Milo laid out the perimeters of their playing field while Crest and Stonewall argued over the exact rules – again. <em>What is it about this silly game that makes them all act like idiots? <em>He and Kalinda were seated on the ramp of the _Wayfarer_, watching the preparations and saying nothing to one another, as their plan was established and ready to go.

Finally the others were finished, and the squad split into two groups: Stonewall, Milo and Kalinda against Crest, Traxis and Weave. There had been some debate over the matter of one team having a Jedi, but Kalinda had promised not to use the Force to influence her abilities. Whereas the word of a Jedi Knight was usually accepted without question by any clone, Weave hadn't missed the dubious gazes of Crest and Traxis on the Human woman.

"Is there a problem?" she'd asked, her tone guileless.

Crest and Traxis had exchanged glances, the latter indicating Stonewall. "It might be better if the two of you weren't on the same team."

Then Stonewall had interceded. "I wouldn't worry about it. You'll probably be more of a hindrance than a help, right Kali?" He'd been joking, of course, and she'd smiled at him, but Weave knew the real reason for her expression.

"Okay, we'll switch off on who gets to be keeper," Stonewall said as they convened in the field. It was a lovely day on Naboo, the sky was bright blue with nary a cloud and there was a gentle breeze that rippled the grass around them.

Traxis' hand lifted, then Milo's; they trotted off to their respective goals. Everyone moved into position. Weave smiled to himself as the Jedi gave him a tiny nod. A coin had been tossed: Stonewall's team had first ball, or whatever it was called, and the game began in earnest.

For the first few minutes it was a fumble of footsteps thudding against the soft grass and the sound of feet and knees impacting with the ball. Weave even managed to get a good few kicks in that went more or less where they were supposed to; Kalinda as well, and Weave didn't miss the look of surprised appreciation that Stonewall gave her, which she returned with another wide smile.

Time passed and goals were scored; the game was soon tied.

Now, Weave had the ball and he looked up to see Stonewall and Kalinda bearing down on him, so he kicked as hard as he could...and smacked the ball directly into Crest's forearm. The bald clone gave a yelp and turned to glare at him. "Goal's _that_ way, Weave," he said, thumbing in Milo's direction.

"Sorry," Weave called out, keeping his voice innocent. "I slipped. Clumsy me."

Kalinda was grinning. "That's a foul, Crest. Our ball."

"Hey, wait..."

Stonewall looked inordinately pleased as well. "She's right. You touched the ball with your arm-"

"-you mean I was _pelted _with it...by my own teammate, no less!"

But the Jedi shook her head. "Sometimes life is like that, Crest. Our ball." She smiled at the clone captain, who nodded to her. Weave chuckled, though he hid the expression as Crest shot him a dirty look.

"Keep your mind on the game," the bald clone muttered, but he reluctantly acquiesced to the rule.

A few more minutes passed. It was getting to the point where they were going to switch keepers, so Weave readied himself. Kalinda had gotten a hold of the ball, and was currently moving towards Traxis, when she suddenly paused, a bewildered look crossing her face. Quicker than any of the others could reach her, she turned and made a beeline for the other goal. _Her_ team's goal.

Immediately, Stonewall began shouting at her to turn around while Milo shook his head and waved his arms as well; but the Jedi was fast, and soon she managed to send the ball past the younger clone and into the makeshift goal. When it connected, she grinned and lifted her arms in the air in triumph, despite the frowns of her teammates. Crest and Traxis were doubled over with laughter at their brothers' distress, and Weave was chuckling too, albeit for a different reason.

Stonewall rubbed his face and looked at her. "Kali...we went over this..."

She did a very decent job of looking confused. "What do you mean?" Her voice was completely innocent.

"That doesn't count," Milo said, as he and Traxis had both come running up from their respective goals. "Right?"

But Crest shook his head, arms crossed. "Sorry, Cap. If you're going to foul me for getting hit in the arm, _that _counts."

"Alright," Traxis said, rubbing his hands and grinning at the Jedi. "Thanks, General."

She sighed and shook her head, looking up at Stonewall and blinking rapidly a few times. "Sorry, Stone. It's just _so_ confusing." It was to her credit that she didn't laugh, and Weave had to bite his tongue to keep his own laughter back.

The clone captain put his arm around her shoulders and sighed again. "It's okay, Kali. Just try to remember which goal belongs to which team."

_Don't bet on it, _Weave thought with a snicker.

"Speaking of which," Traxis replied with a nod at Milo. "I think we're up for some action. Time to switch keepers?"

Everyone agreed; soon, Stonewall and Crest were in position on either end of the field, the others were facing one another. The ball was put into play and for a few minutes, everything went well. Then Weave got in a massive kick – to the wrong goal.

"Oh come on!" Crest shouted from behind him. "That's kriffing ridiculous! I thought you were the smart one!"

Weave glared at his brother, but Kali caught his eye and gave a tiny shake of her head, so he swallowed his sharp retort. "Wow...sorry about that, guys. I just got really caught up in the excitement of it all." He did his best to sound humble, which seemed to appease Crest.

The bald clone sighed. "Well, that's understandable...but don't let it happen again." Traxis hadn't said a word, just shook his head and sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Naturally, Milo and Stonewall were laughing, and Kalinda as well as she gave him a wink. So the game continued.

A few more honest goals were scored. Had Weave really cared about the game, he would have noted that Milo seemed to be the quickest, while Traxis was basically a battering ram of energy. Things got a little heated when Kalinda had the ball and the scarred clone was reluctant to bear down on her, but then she grinned at him and said something in a light voice that made him duck his head and rush for her; that was when she spun and kicked the ball with all of the force – no pun intended – she could muster.

Directly out of the field.

So far out of the field, that all of the clones paused to watch it sail over a grassy hill and disappear over the horizon. For a moment everyone was stunned into silence, then Milo looked at her, his mouth open as Stonewall and Crest trotted forward, the captain coming up to her with a look of annoyance on his face.

Eyes wide, Kalinda's hand flew to her mouth in mock surprise as she met Stonewall's gaze. "Oops." Then she caught Weave's eye and they both broke into hysterics, almost doubled over with mirth as the others gaped at them.

Obviously, the game was up.

* * *

><p>Stonewall sighed and crossed his arms as he watched the Jedi and his brother who were both helpless with laughter; Crest, Traxis and Milo seemed to be experiencing conflicting degrees of amusement and annoyance. <em>Of course. I should have figured that out the minute she forgot whose goal was whose. <em>He said Kali's name a few times, hoping to draw her out of her mirth. Finally she looked up at him, wiping tears from her eyes.

"Your face was..." She giggled again. "Priceless."

Weave was also trying to catch his breath. "All of you...wow. _So_ trusting." He was still laughing, though he had reached a point where he could talk. As if on a whim he turned to Kalinda and the two shook hands in a congratulatory gesture.

Crest looked from one to the other, his jaw dropping. "Sabotage!" He pointed to each of them in turn. "I should have expected this kind of treachery from Weave, but you, boss? What would the Jedi Council say?"

Kali laughed again. "Probably 'well done,' considering how distracted you've all been." She raised a brow at the bald clone. "Consider it a lesson in keeping your mind on the mission." This was punctuated with a wink at Stonewall, whose irritation fled, replaced by another, more pleasant emotion.

With a sigh, Traxis lifted his hand to shade his eyes from the sun, looking in the direction the ball had gone. "You know, those things don't grow on trees..."

Sober now, Kalinda nodded gravely. "Of course. I'll bring it back."

Milo looked eager. "With the Force?"

"Nope. Good old fashioned physical retrieval," she replied. "But it's a long walk...I might get lonely..." She gave Stonewall a meaningful look, and he grinned.

"I'll keep you company." In an exaggerated gesture of chivalry, he offered her his elbow which she took with a smile.

Crest gave a dramatic sigh. "Naturally. Don't mind us..."

"We won't," Kalinda called back as they began to walk. "Besides, I'm sure you guys can find a way to kill a few minutes until we get back."

There was, of course, copious grumbling, but it was all good-natured, and soon Kali and Stone were out of earshot. That was when he looked at her. "Saboteur."

"Arrogant know-it-all."

He grinned before he kissed her. "Devious double-agent."

When they came up for air she gave him a mock-glare. "Name-calling will get you nowhere you want to go, Stone." They had crested the hill, and the ball was in sight, but he wasn't really thinking about it any longer as he kissed her again.

"Don't bet on it."

* * *

><p><em>In case it's not obvious, I know nothing about bolo-ball, and Wookieepedia was woefully lacking with information. Eventually, I realized that it was like soccer, which I'm also ignorant about. Not to be all stereotypically female about it, but...yeah. Let's just call it "creative license" and go from there, shall we? :P<em>

_Also, from here on out, I'll be updating this series on Saturday, so as not to overload anyone with one of these and a chapter of "Bastion". [insert shameless plug here]_


	5. Close Quarters

**Close Quarters**

The 'fresher aboard their ship was small, but there was just enough room for Kalinda to slip in around Stonewall as he stood before the sink, slathering his face with a dollop of white foam. Lifting the razor, he shot her a sideways glance. "Is it that fascinating?"

"I won't bother you, I just like to watch." She took a seat on the closed lid of the toilet and looked up at him with genuine curiosity, nodding at the razor in his hand. "Why do you use the old-fashioned kind?"

Since it was approaching his face, the clone gave a shrug but was careful to keep his hand steady. "Closer shave."

The Jedi nodded as if he'd just given her a piece of sage advice, but said nothing else; Stonewall leaned forward to the mirror and began carefully smoothing the blade across his cheeks, creating evenly-spaced swathes of skin through the foamy beard. He paused to flick the excess into the sink and then lifted the blade again.

True to her word, Kali was silent, her eyes on his movements, not missing a thing. He tried not to chuckle at her earnest expression, as that would contort his features and throw off his carefully-honed system. Normally he was able to shave within a span of a few minutes or so, but he found that his movements were slowing as if to cater to her gaze. After pausing to flick the blade clean again, he glanced at her and bit back a smile as she indicated a spot that he'd missed.

There was a rap at the door. "There are _other_ people on this ship,you know. People who'd like to use the 'fresher sometime in this decade."

"Hang on, Crest," Stonewall replied as he maneuvered the blade along the underside of his chin.

Fifteen seconds of silence. Then: "She's in there too, isn't she?"

Before he replied, Stonewall glanced at Kalinda, who put a finger to her lips and shook her head. "I respect your privacy, you know," he said at last. "And I think that being your CO entitles me to some uninterrupted 'fresher time."

Another pause. "Yeah, she's definitely in there." There was a sigh in Crest's tone. "It's going to be a while, isn't it?"

Then Milo spoke up. "No, she's not. She went to her room to meditate. I saw her go myself."

"Really?" Crest's voice was muffled as though his head was turned. "Then someone should just go check. Trax, care to take a look?"

There were a few ominous clicking sounds that sounded like a blaster being re-assembled after a cleaning before the scarred clone replied. "No."

Stonewall rolled his eyes and looked at the Jedi, who appeared to be trying very hard not to laugh, especially when Crest spoke again. "Weave, how about you?"

There was a pause before they heard the medic reply. "Let me get this straight: you want me to go into our female Jedi general's room – uninvited _and_ unannounced – to check and see if she's really there, because if she's not, then she _might_ be in the 'fresher with the captain?"

"That about sums it up."

Weave muttered something that made the others laugh. Stonewall checked to make sure he hadn't missed any other spots, then wiped the residual foam from his face and began to rinse out his razor. As he did so, Kali rose and stood beside him, her face expectant. It was cramped in the tiny space but he found that he didn't mind so much when it was just the two of them.

"So, no one's going to take a look? No one's willing to go the extra mile?"

Traxis spoke up again. "If you're so damn worried about it, baldy, why don't _you_ go poking around her room?"

"Come on, Trax. I'm not stupid." The tone of Crest's voice indicated that he was rolling his eyes.

There was the sound of footsteps, as if the others were moving to stand together, most likely converging around the bald clone. Then Weave spoke. "But you think we are?"

Kalinda grinned, but it wasn't at the banter; she leaned into Stonewall's chest and smoothed her hands along his face, the sensation heightened because of his newly-shaved skin; after this, she pulled him down a little and rubbed her own cheek against his.

"What's the big deal, anyway?" Milo asked.

"Look, I have to _use_ the 'fresher, okay?" Crest said at last. "And it's getting a little urgent, and if they're in there doing...whatever, I think it's only fair that-"

Stonewall ignored his brother's reply as he held the Jedi close. When they pulled apart her gave her a curious look and spoke in a whisper. "What was that all about?"

"I like this," she said, her voice pitched low as she skimmed her hand on his cheek. "Right afterward. It's..." Her own cheeks flushed. "Nice."

"Nice." He said the word and shook his head. "I'm afraid the appeal is lost on me."

Milo's voice lifted, again. "We're dirtside, you know. Last time I checked, there was a thick forest out there with plenty of cover."

"Yes, but I make it a point to use a 'fresher whenever I can," Crest replied in a mild tone. "It's what we civilized folk do."

Kalinda gave the captain a smile. "I think you do understand," she said. "Remember the dress I had to wear on that mission to Bespin a few months ago?"

He felt his own expression widening into a grin; he _did _remember, of course, and it was a rather pleasant memory at that. "Yeah, I guess I do see the appeal. But that was different," he added, raising his brow. "There was a lot more of you showing."

"You'd rather I had to shave my face than my legs?"

At this he laughed. "No, but I-"

"_Who_ are you talking to in there, Cap?"

Stonewall sighed; however, as he was about to open the door, she caught his eye and they shared a knowing look before she edged back into the 'fresher as much as she could. Schooling his features, he burst open the door and immediately stepped in the midst of the others, giving the bald clone his best captain-like glare. "Honestly...sometimes you act like the entire galaxy revolves around you, Crest. All I ask for is two minutes to do some basic grooming, and you act like I'm cutting off your arm or something." He kept his tone a bit louder than necessary and watched out of the corner of his eye as Kali slipped out of the 'fresher, unnoticed by the others.

Crest crossed his arms. "Sorry, Cap, but it was _way _longer than two minutes."

"He's right about that," Weave added with a shrug. At Stonewall's look he shook his head. "Facts are facts."

The clone captain indicated the empty room. "It's all yours, Crest." At his words the bald clone rushed to the 'fresher and peered around, his brows knitted.

"Where is she?"

"Right here." Kalinda's voice sounded suddenly from the direction of her cabin; all of the clones turned to see her stepping from her room, an irritated look on her face. "Crest, can you please keep it down? I'm trying to meditate."

The bald clone glanced from her to the 'fresher and shook his head. "Sorry, General," he said after a moment. "I was just..."

She gave him a wry look. "I know what you were doing. Just show a little consideration, okay? There are other people on this ship." With that she lifted a brow and leaned against the bulkhead, looking at every clone except Stonewall, who was attempting to uphold his stern expression. The others stood in shocked silence, their heads swiveling from the Jedi to the captain to the 'fresher for several confused moments until her eyes finally fell on the clone captain; his mouth twitched as he watched her attempt to fight the smile that was rapidly appearing on her face.

For a moment there was utter silence, then their eyes met. Laughter burst forth from the clone captain and the Jedi, causing the others to sigh and shake their heads.

Except for Crest, who had already bolted for the 'fresher.

* * *

><p><em>So, apparently I'm obsessed with bathrooms on starships? Hmmm...let's not read too much into it, okay? :P <em>

_I know it's a little heavy on the Stone/Kali fluff, but the third part of EotS is trying to kick my _shebs_, so I needed some ultra-fluff this week. _

_Hope you enjoy! As always, suggestions and comments are always welcome!_


	6. What's In A Name?

**What's In A Name?**

Captain Stonewall stood behind the helm and gave a deep sigh as he watched the stars beyond their viewport drift lazily by before casting a look at his squad's medic, Weave, who was seated at the comm. "How long did they say?"

"Fourteen hours." Weave's voice was grim and he ran his hands over the two strips of hair on his head as was his custom while deep in thought. "Give or take a few." At Stonewall's look he shrugged.

"So that means were going to just float around until the _Resolute_ can pick us up?" Crest said from his place at the mid-section table of their small transport_._ At Weave's nod the bald clone groaned. "Great. Just great. I was looking forward to a chance to get off this kriffing ship...er..." His face reddened and he glanced at the dark-haired Jedi, seated at the helm. "Excuse my language, General Halcyon, sir."

The Jedi Knight, Kalinda Halcyon lifted her eyes from the console and met Stonewall's gaze in the reflection of the transparisteel window before her; he felt a flash of heat from the look but kept the feeling in check, as it wouldn't do to allow his attraction for the Jedi to be known to the rest of his squad. His only consolation was that his feelings were returned. _And I was hoping we'd get a chance to be alone together,_ he thought with an inward sigh. _Ah, well. _

Behind him, in the body of the ship, the youngest clone of the group, Milo was already beginning to open up the engine compartment. "Maybe I can figure out what's wrong," he said eagerly. "Get us moving a little faster."

"No, Milo," Weave said, leaping up from his seat and rushing past the captain. "Remember what happened the last time you poked around down there? One of our compression coils is damaged – that's not something _you_ should tinker with."

"I'd rather try something than sit around for half a day," the scarred clone, Traxis said as he leaned against the bulkhead, cleaning one of his ubiquitous blasters.

"Anyone up for sabacc?" Crest asked, lifting a deck of cards.

Milo, who'd been ejected from the engine compartment and come to sit beside the bald clone, frowned. "We're technically still on active duty, you know."

"We're not actively _anything_ right now, shiny," Traxis replied, jerking his thumb towards the engine, where a number of clanging sounds were emerging from Weave's ministrations.

Stonewall looked back at the Jedi, who appeared to be hiding a smile. Finally she met his eyes and grinned in earnest. "It seems like we're about to have a mutiny on our hands, Captain."

He straightened and shook his head. "Absolutely not, General Halcyon. My men are..." he trailed off once he caught the look of amusement in her eyes and sighed. "You're joking. Right." _Should have figured._

"Not very well, I guess," she admitted. "Maybe-"

But before she could finish the words, every light in the ship's interior shut off, leaving the squad in total darkness. And silence, which was unnerving given the blank, vast stretch of space beyond them.

"Great job, buddy," Crest called out to Weave, who had ceased the clanging noises the moment the power had cut out.

Sliding into the co-pilot's seat, Stonewall examined the readout on the computer console while the Jedi fiddled with the controls. Finally they glanced at one another. "Life-support's functional," he said with a nod to the screen before him. "But everything else is shot."

She nodded and twisted in her seat to look at the others, who were already breaking out the emergency lamps so they wouldn't be sitting in complete darkness. "Well, we can breathe and we won't freeze to death, so I suppose we'll just have to continue to wait for the _Resolute."_

Crest held up his cards again. "Offer still stands."

Hours passed. Stonewall counted two dozen hands of the game before he grew bored with keeping track, and he could tell that his men were growing antsy as well. Of course, Kalinda seemed almost unnaturally calm by comparison, but then, he supposed that was how Jedi were. _Never had a chance to work too closely with one before. Not like this, anyway. _This thought made him glance at her once, her dark eyes catching his and giving him a smile that made him look back down at his cards, still unsure how to handle their burgeoning relationship in the few weeks since their mission to the planet Japarran.

With the growing boredom came an increase in conversation, of which Crest and Milo were the most active participants, along with Kalinda. It started innocently enough as the Jedi asked Crest about his first mission; soon, each of the clones – save Traxis – had launched into a discussion about their early days in the GAR, not so long ago, really, with Kalinda listening intently.

Stonewall watched the scarred clone, who kept his eyes on the cards in his hand and spoke only when asked a direct question. The Jedi must have noticed his reticence, but did not press him, for which the captain was grateful, as he often found the weapons expert to be a prickly fellow.

Unlike Crest, who was fascinated by all aspects of life outside of the military, and had been working up the nerve to ask the Jedi something. Stonewall was only aware of it because he'd heard the bald clone discussing the matter with Weave a few days ago. The squad's ordnance expert leaned forward and cleared his throat, causing the Jedi to smile at him. "What's up, Crest?"

"Your name," he replied. "It's...unusual, isn't it?"

Stonewall winced inwardly at the odd nature of the question, while at the same time wondering what – in Crest's mind – constituted an unusual name. However, the Jedi didn't seem to take offense. She looked thoughtful for a moment before shrugging. "Not really. 'Halcyon' is a common Corellian surname, and I think there's actually a planet called 'Kalinda' near Naboo, though I believe it was a family name. My mother was Corellian," she added, seeing their blank looks.

Milo frowned and shook his head. "You were named after a planet?"

She chuckled. "Maybe." After a moment she set down her cards and looked around at each of the clones. "Can I ask you guys something as well?"

Each man straightened in his seat and nodded to her, answering "of course, General," nearly in unison.

"How do you get your names?" At their shocked looks she glanced at Stonewall, her expression clearly asking him _did I do something wrong? _

So he gave a tiny shake of his head. It was hard to explain, but he decided to try for her sake. "While we were on Japarran, I told the general how I got my nickname," he said to the rest of his squad. "And she was curious about the rest of you as well."

Crest tapped his cards along the tabletop. "Not names, General. Nicknames. And it's kind of personal..."

"I didn't mean to pry," she amended. "I really was just curious. You don't have to-"

But the bald clone was shaking his head. "Don't worry about it...I got mine because of my mohawk." She gave him a bewildered look and he grinned at her, the faint light from their emergency lamps glinting off of his skull. "On Kamino. I was the first guy in my squad to have one...did it to annoy the long-necks, but wound up liking it."

Stonewall resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but Kalinda looked interested. "Why would that annoy the Kaminoans?"

"They don't like _differences,_" Crest replied with a chuckle. "And it probably didn't help that I got pretty good at imitating their flowy walk, too."

"I've seen you do that," Milo said, laughing. "You're pretty good."

But the Jedi looked confused, her eyes going from Stonewall to Crest; he thought he understood, as his own 'naming story' was rather dramatic. _Leave it to Crest to pick his name based on some prank he pulled on the Kaminoans. _So he gave the clone a knowing look. "So why'd you get rid of it?" He ran a hand over his own close-cropped hair.

Crest's expression darkened a little at this, but Traxis began to chuckle. "He told me that some of the others shaved it off in his sleep," the scarred clone said. "That big mouth of yours finally got you in trouble, didn't it, baldy?"

"The joke's on them, because I like this better," Crest replied, smoothing his hand across his skull. He gave Traxis a knowing look. "How about _your _name?"

The scarred clone shook his head. "Privileged intel. Need-to-know only."

"I picked my name after the finals match between Plooma and Ithor, after Plooma's keeper," Milo chimed in, sitting upright and giving Kalinda a proud look. However, she seemed perplexed and the younger clone sighed in disappointment. "It's a bolo-ball thing, General."

"Of course," she replied, though Stonewall could tell that she had no idea. "It's a really nice name, Milo. It suits you."

Weave sighed and set his cards down. "My turn? Not really interesting...I was the best in my group at the duck-and-weave portion of the assault course."

"Was 'Duck' taken?" Crest asked with a raised brow.

The squad's medic laughed. "I liked the sound of 'Weave' better."

"Which level course?" Milo said.

Weave gave a nonchalant shrug. "Alpha." All of the clones looked impressed, though the Jedi seemed perplexed. The captain decided that he would try and explain it to her, later, as that would also give him an excuse to talk to her in private. At least, what privacy there was to be had aboard the tiny ship.

They played in silence for a few more minutes before Crest glanced at the weapons expert. "Please tell us."

"No." Traxis' eyes didn't look up from his cards.

"Come on..." At the scarred clone's look he frowned. "Knowing you, it's a good story. Gripping, action-packed, with plenty of gruff remarks."

Traxis gave Crest an irritated look, then lifted his eyes to Kalinda, as if waiting to see if she would order him to tell the story. However, she was studying the cards in her hand, seemingly unaware of the debate, and Stonewall found that he respected her a little more for that.

But now Milo was curious as well. "It's not like we have anything else to talk about," he said, indicating the void outside the viewport. "Besides, if we're going to work well as a team, we should be able to discuss these things."

"It's a nickname, shiny. Not exactly something worth sharing." Traxis frowned at Crest, who was edging off of his seat. Finally he sighed and set his cards down. All eyes turned to him and he crossed his arms and looked up at the ceiling. "I came across a word that I liked the sound of, okay? End of story. Can we forget about it, now?"

Weave and Milo exchanged glances, but it was Kalinda who spoke. "'Traxis?' Hmmm...not familiar with it. Is it Mando'a?"

The scarred clone seemed resigned to his fate. "No, sir. It's a Bakuran word."

There was silence for a moment before Crest waved his hand. "And it means...?"

"Kind of hard to translate."

"Give it your best shot. No pun intended."

Traxis sighed again. "Loosely translated, it means 'valve.'" At the others startled looks he grimaced. "Comes from the Bakuran word for the heter valve on a blaster...you know, the one that lets the tibanna into the conversion chamber?"

Then Weave shook his head. "Yes, but I don't follow..."

"BlasTech makes our weapons, right?" Traxis said. "Well, most models that we're given contain a heter valve manufactured on Coruscant...but a little-known fact is that the Bakurans use a slightly different model valve that better streamlines the influx of gas, which makes your blaster-bolt more efficient and powerful. Tarascii Explosives fostered a deal with the Bakurans to use their model on some of the blasters that they then sold to BlasTech." To illustrate, he had lifted his weapon and begun disassembling it on the table-top, pointing out the components as he spoke.

Again, silence. Finally Milo gave the scarred clone a blank look, as his eyes had started to glaze over in the middle of the speech. "So...'traxis' means 'valve' in Bakuran."

"Heter valve. Yeah."

Stonewall rubbed his forehead. "How did you learn that?"

Here, Trax's face darkened again, as if in anticipation of mockery. "From the manual that Tarascii sent along with the weapons."

"Wait, wait..." Crest said, leaning forward. "Let me get this straight. You picked your name out of a weapons manual?"

"Is that a problem?" Traxis straightened and gave the bald clone a menacing look.

Crest sighed and shook his head. "Trax, that was the worst nickname story I've ever heard. Even Milo's was better." He gave Traxis a chiding look. "And I can't believe you actually _read _the manual. I thought those were just for extra packaging."

"Some of us take our jobs seriously, baldy."

Kalinda shifted in her chair and the clones looked over at her, as if they'd only just remembered she was there. "I like it," she said. "It's thoughtful and it suits you, Traxis." The scarred clone nodded to her, but Stonewall thought he could see a gleam of approval in his eyes, and something seemed to pass between them even though Trax only nodded and thanked her. In fact, all of the clones seemed a little more relaxed around the Jedi, as though some of the distance between them had been closed.

The captain looked up and realized that she was trying to catch his eye; when she did, she gave him a smile that was starting to think he'd never get tired of. It was against protocol for sure, but the Jedi tilted her cards so that only he could see her lips and mouthed the words, _I like yours best. _

Stonewall grinned and studied the cards in his hands once more, thinking that he very much wanted the _Resolute _to arrive so he could verify the fact with her. As if reading his mind – which was a distinct possibility – she glanced at her chrono. "Only ten more hours to go." She gave the others a bright smile. "Give or take a few."

Crest opened his mouth but Traxis shot him a look. "Don't."

"But I-"

"No one wants to hear your funny quips."

The bald clone gave him a mock-glare. "You don't know that."

"He's right," Weave said. "Let's just play another hand, okay?"

"Please," Milo added. "I don't think I can take ten more hours of your kind of banter."

Crest gave Stonewall an almost pleading look, but the captain only shrugged. "Don't look at me."

"General?"

The Jedi shook her head. "Majority rules, Crest. We're a democracy, after all. Save the jokes for later, or I really will have a mutiny on my hands."

"Save them for when we're with the 501st," Traxis added.

At this, Stonewall laughed. "That's pretty harsh, Trax. Even for you."

The scarred clone gave a rare grin. "They're a tough bunch; they can handle it."

* * *

><p><em>Review, comment, suggest...and (most importantly) enjoy! Many thanks to those of you who have done so! :D<em>


	7. Blarth

**Blarth**

"I'm counting on you to keep them in line while Kalinda and I are gone, Weave,"Captain Stonewall said to the clone, as the Jedi slid into the driver's seat of their speeder. Weave winced at the steely look in the officer's eyes as he regarded Shadow Squad's medic and second-in-command. "Even though you and the others aren't dealing with the locals directly, we all have to keep a professional appearance while we're on Naboo; I don't want to hear about any 'mishaps' while we're away."

Naturally, Weave was determined not to let _anything _happen while the captain and the general were away at their negotiations, but he was not naïve enough to think that his squad-mates wouldn't try and push their luck. _I just have to be firm, and keep my mind on the job. I can't get distracted with some project like I usually do. _Rather than voice his apprehension, Weave gave a smart salute. "Of course. Don't worry about a thing."

General Halcyon smiled at him. "Thanks, Weave. I know I can count on you."

He figured that her words were meant to be encouraging, but he only felt a flash of apprehension at her trusting tone. Though he'd been a sergeant for some time, this was the first opportunity that Weave had to really show that he was a decent leader; he often wondered why he'd been promoted all those months ago, well before he'd been assigned to General Halcyon's squad, as he tended to live inside his head too much. _But it doesn't matter, _he thought as he watched the Jedi and the clone captain speed off towards the capitol. _I'm in command. I'll do my best. _

Of course, his optimism had started to drain away within the first few minutes. The dust from the officers' speeder hadn't even settled yet when Crest approached him.

"So...Theed." The bald clone had sauntered up to Weave, as he and Traxis were making adjustments to their ship's starboard engines. The shuttle they'd been using for the last few months – since their mission to Florrum – was temperamental and Weave was anxious to use the down-time to try and coax it into better working order.

It was difficult, so he didn't look up at his squad-mate as he tightened a stubborn bolt. "That's where we are...the outskirts, I guess, but still technically the capitol. Trax, hand me that 'spanner, will you?"

Crest rocked on his heels and glanced around the hangar, shading his eyes from the morning sun. "It's a nice place, isn't it?"

"Forget it." Weave kept his tone calm while he frowned over the bolt.

"Forget what? I was just making conversation..."

This made the medic glance up at his errant brother. "I know exactly where this line of questioning is going, Crest. We're staying here. That's that." Crest opened his mouth to object but Weave cut him off. "If you're bored, why don't you go help Milo clean the water reclamation filter?"

With a long-suffering sigh, the bald clone shrugged and turned to go. "You're the boss, boss."

After he'd made his way back to the interior of the ship, Traxis shot Weave a knowing look. "This isn't going to end well. You know that, right?"

Weave sighed. "Yeah, well. I try to stay optimistic."

About half an hour later, Milo and Crest emerged from the ship's hold, carrying a large U-shaped container between them. They made their way to Weave and set the container down, Crest giving a smart salute. "Sir. Requesting permission to dump the contents of the filter at the local treatment zone, sir." He nodded to a building across the spaceport, situated to handle this type of thing.

Even though it was technically still morning, it was already hot and Weave was sweating, tired and irritated with the ship, so he only nodded absently as he tried to dig out the bolt – which had rounded off at this point, and tried to ignore the sarcasm in Crest's tone. "Great. Don't take too long."

His brothers hefted the container and left the immediate area.

They were gone for a while.

A long while.

Finally, Traxis paused in his repairs to look over at Weave. "Shouldn't they be back by now?"

_Fierfek. _The medic lifted his wrist comm and called Crest. "Where are you?"

There was no reply at first, which made Weave close his eyes, then his brother's familiar voice replied. "Er...we got a little side-tracked. We're on our way back, though." Milo's voice sounded in the background, though Weave couldn't make out his words; then Crest spoke again, his voice muffled as if his hand was over the speaker. "_No...not now."_ His tone grew normal again. "Everything's fine. No need to worry, _vod. _We'll see you in a minute."

Then, silence.

"That's not good," Traxis said, crossing his arms. "I can only imagine what those two jokers got into at the treatment facility."

_Hopefully not literally speaking. _Weave rubbed his forehead. "I'd rather not."

They didn't have long to wait, but it was worse than the medic had imagined; eventually they could see Milo and Crest returning, the latter carrying the now-empty container, and the former holding an unfamiliar object. Even Traxis was at a loss. "What the kriff is _that_?"

Shading his eyes from the sun that was climbing higher with each moment, Weave squinted at the _thing _in Milo's arms, his mouth falling open a moment later after the realization dawned. "Oh no..."

"What?" The scarred clone glanced between Weave and Milo, clearly unsettled by the medic's tone.

The sergeant was too flabbergasted to form a coherent thought besides a litany of unhelpful curses, so Weave simply stood and watched his brothers approach, their footsteps echoing against the duracrete floor. As he and Milo came up, Crest set the container down and lifted his hands in a gesture of appeasement. "Before you get mad, let me just say that we didn't _intend_ to come back with an extra passenger."

Weave ignored him and stared at the creature in Milo's grasp. It was not a large animal by galactic standards, perhaps a third of a meter long and almost as wide, with blubbery, grayish-blue skin and the biggest mouth-to-body ratio that Weave had ever seen. Dangling from the grinning maw was a long, pink tongue that was dripping pools of slobber on the ground at the younger clone's feet, and the creature's wide eyes were regarding the clones with a benevolent-but-curious expression. A long, agile tail curled around Milo's arm almost protectively, and the animal panted in the midday sun.

Traxis recovered first. "What _is _that thing?"

"It's a blarth," Weave said with a groan. "A domesticated, native predator of Naboo." He made it a point to study the flora and fauna of every planet that his squad visited, as it was always wise to be prepared, but he'd never expected _this._

The bald clone gave the blarth a pat on the head, chucking as the creature closed its eyes and seemed to slide into a state of pure bliss from the simple contact. "We found him – I think it's a him, anyway – stuck in one of the drain pipes...he was terrified, poor fella."

Milo beamed at the creature and hefted it before looking at the medic. "Can we keep him?"

Speechless for a moment, Weave ran his hands through the twin strips of hair on his head before looking back at his brothers. "Are you serious?"

"Not normally, but this one time...yeah," Crest replied, still looking at the blarth with affection.

"He can be our mascot," Milo added, stepping away from the puddle of drool that was forming at his feet on the duracrete floor. "What should we call him?"

Crest shrugged. "I was thinking 'Cabur.' You know, Mando for 'protector?' They're guard animals, after all."

"Really? I like 'Kot,'" Milo replied. "'Strength.'"

Weave held up his hands. "We're not calling it anything, because it's _not_ staying here."

"But-"

"Crest, you know perfectly well that we can't keep an animal like that on the ship," Weave interrupted. "There's barely enough room for us Humans." _Stonewall's going to kill me..._

Traxis watched as Milo shifted away from another puddle of drool. "Second that."

The bald clone crossed his arms. "But he's hurt. Or didn't you notice?" Indeed, Milo shifted his arm and Weave could see the abrasion on the creature's left side. "Come on, doc. At least patch him up, then we'll take him to a pet-store or something."

_This isn't going to end well, but it _is_ injured. _Weave sighed. "Fine. Let me get my medkit." He turned to leave and Milo followed, nearly slipping on the puddle. The medic shook his head. "No. It stays out here...I'm not letting it on the ship, okay?" _I don't think the captain or the Jedi will be pleased to have puddles of drool all over the place._

"But he's hot," Milo replied, shifting the creature in his arms. "Look how much he's panting." Indeed, the blarth's tongue was lolling at a rather impressive length from his mouth, and his eyes seemed to give Weave an almost pleading look.

_I'm such a sucker. _"Okay, but Crest...get a couple of towels or something to mop all this...liquid up."

Minutes later, the clones had arranged a makeshift bed of towels on the small table in the galley of the ship; Milo was keeping a hand on the blarth while Weave cleaned and bandaged its wound, trying to ignore the constant panting, the drool that was already soaking through the closest towel, and the creature's eyes, which were gazing at him as if he were the most wonderful being in the galaxy.

Traxis and Crest stood to one side, watching. The scarred clone shook his head. "People keep these things as pets?"

"The drool is actually used for a number of products," Weave replied absently as he affixed the gauze to the blarth's leg. "Mostly by the Gungans, I guess. But it's said to be pretty...er, potent stuff." He tried not to grimace as the creature gave a small whine and licked his hand, immediately coating it in slime. _Ugh...I didn't sign up for this._

"Milo, he doesn't look like a 'Kot,'" Crest said, his tone considering. "But he doesn't look like a 'Cabur,' either."

The younger clone looked up. "How about 'Blarthy?'"

Traxis gave a snort of laughter. "Are you serious?"

"I don't hear you coming up with anything," Milo replied with a huff.

"I'm not taking part in this nonsense," the scarred clone replied. However, after a moment he frowned. "But you can do better than 'Blarthy.'"

_Not him, too. _Weave took a deep breath and made sure that the bandage was secure. He'd had to use the strongest water-proof kind, after taking into account the copious amounts of saliva that the blarth was creating. "All done. Let's go."

"But it's midday," Crest said, indicating the open hatch of the ship, through which they could see the sun beating down in the hangar where their ship was resting. "We know we can't really keep him, okay? But let's let him rest for now, and this evening we can drop him off at the nearest animal shelter." His tone was dangerously reasonable, and Weave felt his own frustration level increasing as he was starting to understand that he was not going to win this battle.

"Crest..." His mouth was open to argue, then the blarth made a snuffing sound and nudged his hand with its squat, rounded head, its eyes somehow looking larger than they should have. _Its trying to elicit an emotive response from me,_ Weave thought as he watched the saliva pooling on the table and dripping to the floor. _They're pretty intelligent, by all accounts, and this one seems to be manipulative as well..._The blarth whined again and gave him another, tentative nudge. Weave's shoulders slumped. "Fine."

Milo grinned and patted the creature's head. "Welcome to Shadow Squad, Blarthy."

* * *

><p>"Get that crinking thing out of the way before I lose my temper," Traxis muttered as he stumbled – again – over the creature on his way into the ship, carrying a box of spare parts. The blarth had taken up residence at the entrance to the shuttle, watching with interest as the clones went about their normal tasks; he was slowly but steadily becoming surrounded by a massive puddle of drool that Weave had given up on trying to control about an hour ago, contenting himself with the knowledge that, as long as the blarth remained on the ramp, gravity would see to it that the saliva didn't get in the ship.<p>

Any more than it already had, that is.

After Traxis maneuvered his way around the creature, Weave glanced up at Milo, who was adjusting the landing struts. "Can't you keep him out of the way?"

"I've tried," the younger clone replied, looking at the blarth with fondness. "But he's so stubborn. Aren't you, Jango?"

"Jango?" Traxis emerged from the shuttle, crossed his arms and looked down at the animal, who tilted his head up and met the scarred clone's gaze. "That's just...wrong."

Crest was cleaning the exterior of the viewport, balancing on a slender ladder. At his squad-mate's words he glanced over and frowned. "Agreed. He doesn't really _look _like a Jango, you know? Blarthy was better."

Biting back his sigh, Weave told himself – for the umpteenth time – that he was lucky that it was only _one _blarth that his brothers had collected, and not an entire litter, or any larger, more destructive animal. "I don't care what you call it, guys, just keep it out of the way. We only have a few hours until the captain and the general return." _At least they won't have to deal with it...if I'm lucky, they'll never even know._

_Of course, luck's never really been my thing..._It was not a comforting thought, so he tried to ignore it as he adjusted the coolant panel on the starboard engine.

For a while the clones worked in relative quiet; the worst of the heat was receding and a fresh breeze managed to work its way into the open-air hangar, which was free of all but a few other ships. The only sounds were the usual lilts of conversation between the troopers and the consistent, rhythmic panting of the blarth, who remained in his place at the threshold of the shuttle. Finally, Weave glanced at his chrono and realized that it was well past time for their midday meal, so he called the others to a stop.

The table was still covered in sopping towels, so they decided to eat outside, splitting up a few ration packs among themselves and resting in the shade against the hull of the shuttle. Milo began tossing chunks of his protein bar to the blarth, grinning as the creature caught each one eagerly, its wide jaws making a wet, smacking sound as it swallowed the pieces.

"He's clever, isn't he?" The younger clone's tone was full of admiration as he broke off another piece of the bar and lifted it above his head, watching as the blarth tracked his movements, its tongue nearly flopping to the ground as it – somehow – salivated even more.

"A real genius," Traxis replied, though his voice was missing its customary sharpness. Weave shot him a look, noting how the scarred clone was studying the creature with interest, his hand lingering over the protein bar in his grasp. After a moment, he caught Trax's eye and gave him his best 'sergeant' glare. However, Traxis shrugged, then broke off a chunk of the bar and tossed it to the blarth, who snapped it up eagerly.

Crest chuckled. "Entertaining little guy, huh?" He gave Weave a knowing look. "Don't worry...we have hours before they get back. You need to relax a little bit."

"I'll keep that in mind if you're even in charge while the captain's gone," Weave replied. At this, the blarth let out a whine and continued panting even as it shuffled towards the him, wide eyes fixed on the bar in his hand; he frowned and made several shooing motions. "No. Go away."

"You're a medic," Crest replied in a sardonic voice. "Show some compassion."

As Weave opened his mouth to reply, they heard the unmistakable sound of an approaching speeder, and he felt alarm course through him. _Fierfek. _His mind raced, but it was too late. Before he could do anything more than get to his feet, Captain Stonewall and the Jedi pulled up in the vehicle, looking at the squad with interest. All of the clones stood at attention out of habit as their officers stepped out of the speeder and walked up; the blarth had made its way between Weave's legs and was nuzzling the armored plating at his calves, looking up at him with large, hopeful eyes.

"What is that?" General Halcyon asked, nodding to the creature. As Weave stammered an answer, the dark-haired Jedi crouched down and regarded the blarth, who looked back at her with a curious expression.

Then, naturally, Milo stepped in. "That's Jango. Or Blarthy...there's some debate on that point." At his words, the general exchanged glances with the captain; Weave could see that she was fighting back a grin, but Stonewall's expression was – thankfully – obscured by his helmet.

"I see." Stonewall crossed his arms and turned his visor to Weave. "Care to offer any explanation on our newest member, Sergeant?"

Taking a deep breath, Weave glanced at his brothers, who remained silent. _Of course. When I need them to speak up..._ "It's a local species, sir. Harmless, for the most part. Crest and Milo found him, injured, and I patched him up. We were going to take him to a local shelter before you got back."

"We finished early," General Halcyon said, her eyes falling on the ramp of the ship. "What is...did it rain?" She pointed to the area where the blarth had been sitting, and Weave took a small amount of satisfaction in the fact that he was not the only clone to grimace at the sight of the copious drool glistening on the ramp in the afternoon light.

But before he could say anything else, she was in the ship. Moments later, he heard her exclamation of disgust; the captain lifted his gaze from the blarth and crossed the space to her side in a few strides.

Or at least, that's what he was intending to do, had he not slipped on the puddle on the ramp; even as he was saying the Jedi's name, the clone captain gave a shout as his feet lifted out from under him and he landed with a resounding crack on the ramp. This new development incited the others to action, the troopers immediately clustering around the fallen officer with offers to help him to his feet.

It was a chain reaction: Traxis tripped over the blarth – who had moved to follow the captain – and landed sideways on the ramp, which in turn caused Milo to fall over his legs – face-down – though he was able to catch himself on his hands; Crest and Weave, who had each moved forward at the same time, slipped with almost perfect symmetry on the puddle and crashed into one another. For several seconds the soldiers were reduced to a pile of groaning plastoid, with the blarth panting happily, taking the position in the middle of the group and regarding them all with what Weave could only think of as affection.

Kalinda Halcyon leaned against the side of the doorway and crossed her arms, her expression mild. "When you're all done fooling around, _someone _needs to clean up this cabin. It's a kriffing mess in here."

All of the clones looked at the blarth, whose tongue seemed to loll out of its wide mouth even more, if such a thing were possible. "Bad boy, Blarthy," Milo said with a sigh. "Bad boy."

* * *

><p><em>So I have this really amazing book, <em>The Wildlife of Star Wars: A Field Guide_, which is where I learned about the blarth. If you haven't already, check it out...there are some fantastic illustrations._

_Also, I was giggling the entire time I wrote this, and during all the editing as well. Clearly, there's something wrong with me. :P_


	8. One Bad Day

_This misadventure takes place after _All or Nothing_, but before _Warriors of Shadow_. _

* * *

><p><strong>One Bad Day<strong>

Kalinda Halcyon gritted her teeth as her boots squelched in yet another patch of mud, this time sending a spray of the noxious stuff to her face; she paused to swipe the hem of her tunic across her cheek and cast a look at Captain Stonewall beside her. "Can I borrow your helmet?"

"Er..."

She sighed and shook her head. "Just kidding, Stone. Let's keep going...the sooner we find this Separatist testing facility, the sooner we can get off of this kriffing moon."

Behind her she heard Crest's cluck of disapproval. "Such language...for a Jedi, too."

"Do the words 'court-martial' mean anything to you?" she shot back, though she couldn't keep the grin from her face at the feeling of shock that emanated from the ordnance trooper.

"He had it coming, General," Weave added as he surveyed the area around them. "But..."

Kali glanced back at him. "Yes?"

He paused and shook his head. "Nothing, sir. I'm sure you know where we are."

"Not really," she said, squinting up through the treetops. The sun was directly overhead, which offered no clue as to their direction, something that wouldn't have made such a difference had the clones' armor electronics been working. _That landing was a bit too rough for my liking, _she thought as they continued on through the brush. _Good thing we have a ride coming; all we have to do now is find that base and then we can get out of this mud-ball..._

"Watch out, General." She suddenly felt herself being lifted mid-step as Stonewall picked her up. "Puddle," he said to her startled look. "A big one. You were about to step in it," he added, a grin in his voice.

"Thanks, Captain," she replied, trying not to sigh. "Though I think at this point it hardly makes much of a difference."

She was in his arms perhaps a moment to long before he set her down, the movement gentle and controlled; when he spoke, his voice was pitched low so that only she could hear. "Anytime, Kali."

Hours later, they were still trudging through the swamp, though the sun had sunk farther across the sky. Or rather, that was Kali's first inclination, but when she actually paused to examine the patches of sky above her head, she realized that – while dusk was approaching – there was also a thick layer of clouds that were overtaking the horizon, and she could smell distant rain. _That's not good. _She glanced around at the others. There had been no sign of their target and tempers were starting to wear thin.

"Watch it, shiny," Traxis growled to Milo as the younger clone stepped on his heel.

"Calm down, Trax. It wasn't on purpose." Milo's voice held an uncommonly sharp edge.

Crest wasn't helping. "Can't we all just get along?"

"Shut up," Traxis and Milo said simultaneously.

Beside her, Stonewall cleared his throat. "That's enough, all of you!" Naturally, he'd stopped when Kali had, but Weave, who'd been walking behind him, engrossed in his own thoughts, didn't notice, and slammed into the captain's back, causing both of them to stumble to the ground; this, of course, made the others break into further bickering.

Despite the lack of morale, all it took was a swift clearing of her throat for the argument to cease. Soon they were on the move again, Kali's steps a bit faster than normal, as if making up for lost time.

After about half an hour she checked her chronometer and realized that Cody should have comm'd them some time ago, so she tried to call the _Intrepid_. _Static. Of course the kriffing comlinks aren't working. Why would they possibly work when we need the blasted things? Not like we'll have to leave this moon at any point. _With a sigh, she lifted her hand in a signal for them to stop for a moment so she could try and get her bearings.

"Are we lost, General?" Milo's tone was hesitant, as though he'd be charged with insubordination for the simple, not-entirely-uncalled-for question.

Kali had taken to leaning against a fallen tree trunk and was attempting to wipe off the rest of the mud from her face with the sleeve of her tunic. "We can't be lost if we don't know exactly where we're going, Milo."

"That's not as comforting as you might think," Crest replied as he removed his bucket to squint up at the sky.

"It wasn't meant to be." _Ugh. I don't think I left any mud back there, considering how much is coming off of my face. _

Stone stood by the tree as well and pulled out a cleaning wipe from his kit, handing it to her. "Our HUDs still aren't working," he murmured as she rubbed at her forehead. "That electromagnetic pulse that fried the ship also did a number on our suits, but I think we're getting close to the range." She nodded and looked into his visor as she swiped the wet-cloth over the bridge of her nose. "What's wrong?"

A smile crept to her face. "Nothing. Just that you're very handy right now. And reflective."

"Always glad to be of use," he replied in a wry voice.

"Anyone know what that is?" Milo's voice was bright with curiosity as he pointed to the sky. Everyone followed his gesture and Kalinda felt dread slice through her as she recognized the sight. Yelling at the others to _get back_ even as she used the Force to push her squad out of the missile's path, she barely had time to leap to safety. The following explosion was deafening, but aside from being pelted with _more_ mud and bits of tree, everyone was intact and uninjured. Stone had remained at her side and seemed to have been trying to shield her from the worst of the debris, but he'd succeeded only in pushing her deep into the nearest mud-puddle.

From his place at her side, the captain emanated a curious mixture of sheepishness and alarm. "I'm-"

But she shook her head. "It's fine, Stone. Let's just go before anything else happens." When the Jedi got to her feet, she glanced down at her filthy, sopping tunic and gave a defeated sigh before looking around for the others. "Everyone okay?"

Four identical armored heads had popped up out of the brush and were nodding at her words, but it was Crest who replied in his jovial tone. "Guess we're not lost after all, huh General?"

"Is that thunder?" Weave spoke just before they all heard the distinctive rumbling sound; Kali may have been mistaken, but she thought that she sensed a flare of apprehension from all of the clones at the noise. "Is there a reason they're testing new weaponry in the middle of a storm?" Light raindrops began to patter the leaves around them as the sky darkened even more.

Traxis hefted his blaster. "Droids are stupid; what more do you need to know?"

"It just seems odd, that's all," Weave replied, a frown in his tone.

Kalinda shielded her eyes with her hand and scanned the forest, searching. It was difficult, especially when thunder broke through the air again and the rain began to sluice down her face. However, after a moment she spotted something promising in a stretch of nearby cliffs. "Come on," she said to the others. "Let's get out of here and regroup." As if punctuating her words, a streak of lightening illuminated the forest for an instant, tinting the clones' armor a blinding white – the few portions that were not mud-spattered, that is – and causing another jolt of agitation to rise from each man.

_Strange...are they frightened of the storm? _She set the thought aside and picked her way through the brambles.

Given the mud and rain, it was slow going, but eventually they reached their destination – without any more missiles, thankfully – and the squad was soon clustered together in a small cave watching the rain outside, their buckets resting on the ground beside them. A gust of wind tore through the cavern and Kali shivered, but tried to ignore her own discomfort, as something unexpected was happening to the soldiers.

Kalinda had only just started working with the clones a few months ago. Her personal relationship with the captain aside, she realized every day that she didn't know the others as well as she should. From what she had seen, they were well-trained, brave, skilled and strong, like all the clones seemed to be, but they each had their individual traits as well: Crest always had a quip ready while Traxis seemed just as likely to argue; Weave often lived in his head and Milo tried so hard to be good and _right_ despite his inexperience. Stonewall, of course, never seemed to flinch in the face of any danger, even though she knew that he was not as immovable as his name suggested.

So she was flummoxed to see the five of them sitting close together without seeming to, listening to the growl of the storm and wincing at every clap of thunder and lightning bolt. Fear emanated from each clone, coating his consciousness as surely as the mud that splattered her tunic, and Kali was at a loss about what to do.

Stonewall was nearest; her hand was shielded from the others' view, so she rested it on his armored forearm and looked into his face. "Are you okay?" She kept her tone gentle, as she was unsure how to act.

"Yeah." The word was clipped and he didn't look at her, only grimaced as the entire cave was lit up, resonating with the thunder that followed on the lightning's heels.

The Jedi took a breath and looked at the others, all of whom were shivering; the movements would not have been discernible but for the fact that she was looking for them. She had not been to the clones' home planet of Kamino, but remebered that it was a world violent with storms. _You'd think they'd be used to them. I guess not. _

Her eyes fell on Milo, who was quivering a bit more than the rest, his gaze locked onto his armored feet. Traxis was examining one of his blasters with forced nonchalance, but she could see the tremble in his hands. Beside him, Weave held perfectly still, his eyes glazed and unfocused while his breathing was deep, unsteady. Even Crest was silent, staring straight ahead at the opposite wall, wearing the expression of someone who was trying to think of something else – _anything_ – and failing.

Kalinda took a deep breath and lifted her hand from Stone's arm, noting that he didn't even glance at her as she did so, which was not at all like him. _It doesn't matter why they feel this way. They're all terrified, and I have to help, if I can._

She cleared her throat, which caused them all to look over at her. "Have I ever talked about the time I spent as a Sentinel?" Five identical heads shook in unison, so she continued, trying to ignore the rush of wind and the persistent, gnawing fear that each clone was emanating as another roll of thunder buzzed in her ears. "A Sentinel's role is to act undercover; often we remain in one place for a long time and complete our missions without anyone ever learning that we're Jedi."

"Covert-ops?" Stonewall's voice was quiet, but she felt heartened by the fact that he was at least talking, so she nodded.

"Exactly." She paused, thinking over her next words. "Of course, it was dangerous much of the time, but there was this one mission..."

* * *

><p>Stone leaned forward, even as the others were howling with laughter. "You didn't."<p>

"I did," Kali replied in a prim voice. "Anything to get the job done. Of course, I felt like an idiot in that costume, but what else was I supposed to do?"

He looked thoughtful, but it was Crest who spoke next. "You don't have a picture, do you? I'd love to see a Jedi dressed up as a-" A snort escaped him and he shook his head, unable to form the words.

Kalinda bit back her smile as she watched them. "Glad to know that my embarrassing past amuses you all." _It worked. Lucky for me I don't have a lot of pride, but I do have some funny anecdotes. _The storm was still furious outside, but the mood within the cave was lighter than it had been half an hour ago.

"You must have looked ridiculous...er, General," Weave said as he chortled; she felt a flash of embarrassment from him at the informal words, which he'd tried to cover up with her title.

Much lighter.

Kali shrugged and gave him a grin. "You have no idea."

Once the bout of laughter had died down, Kali noticed that the storm had seemed to recede a bit as well; where there had once been lashing wind there was only the soft patter of raindrops outside the mouth of the cave, and she could see that the final rays of the sunset were tinting the clouds a pale lavender, streaked with gold. The clones were more relaxed: Traxis was leaning his head back against the cavern's wall, rubbing his face as if to wipe away any vestigial traces of mirth, though she'd seen him laughing just as hard as the others; Crest was shaking his head and snickering as he cast the Jedi a look of appreciation; Weave was smiling even while he thumbed through one of his ubiquitous datapads; Milo's expression had turned thoughtful as he looked outside.

She was broken from her reverie by a gentle touch at her wrist. Kali glanced over at the clone captain, who was regarding her with unabashed tenderness, his warm gaze pulled her closer to him as if on instinct. "Thank you, Kali," he murmured, pressing his gloved hand to her bare skin, heedless of the layer of mud and grime that she'd yet to wipe away. His voice was soft but still made her shiver as she nodded and gave him the look that he would come to recognize as the one she always saved for him.

"Anything to see you smile, Stone," she replied. "Always."

* * *

><p><em>So, a few months ago we lost power at my house for about eight hours one night; in the interim, I sat outside watching the storm and thinking about the clones...thus this ficlet was born. And no, I don't know what she was dressed up as...any guesses? :P<br>_


	9. Flopsy

"**Flopsy"**

The state of their ship's 'fresher was the straw that broke the bantha's back.

Shadow Squad's general, Kalinda Halcyon had not said as much, but Captain Stonewall knew her well enough to understand that when she got _that _look on her face, something was going to change. Admittedly, their squad had been busier than normal of late, and he'd perhaps been a bit too lenient with his men with regards to the state of cleanliness of the interior of their transport. Extra pieces of armor were scattered on every surface; flecks of food-wrappers and drink containers cluttered the mess and galley table and the 'fresher...

Stonewall winced at the memory. Kali had been gone for some diplomatic Jedi-business for a few days, while he and Weave – Shadow Squad's medic – were on a mission of their own, thereby entrusting the running of the _Wayfarer_ to Crest, Traxis and Milo. The latter of the three was normally a paragon of tidiness, but he was also the "shiny" of the group, and had proved unable to withstand the combined onslaught of his brothers' habits.

It had been bad. He and Weave had returned only minutes after Kali, to find the dark-haired woman fighting back shock and horror at the state in which their ship had been left. Crest had – naturally – attempted to babble some type of explanation, but Stonewall had the prescience to cut him off, and for a moment all five soldiers had watched their Jedi General with varying degrees of trepidation.

Jedi were schooled in the art of keeping their emotions restrained, but the clones were unparalleled in the art of reading even the most minute facial expressions; none of the soldiers had missed the way her jaw tensed or how her eyes narrowed – slightly. Because he was their officer as well as her lover, Stonewall realized that it was up to him to diffuse the situation.

"This needs to be taken care of," she said at last, her hand indicating the ship.

Stone nodded. "Of course. Actions have consequences, right lads?"

Their reply was immediate and spoken in unison, as if they were cadets back on Kamino. "Sir, yes sir!"

"Well get it cleaned up, Kali," he added, inching himself between her and the others, all of whom were standing at attention – their default setting when things went awry, it seemed. Stone watched her eyes flick to the rest of the ship's interior, then rest back on the squad. "All of it," he added.

She took a breath and looked back at the 'fresher for a moment more before lifting her hand, using the Force to shut the door. Another glance at him that made his breath hitch – not in the good way – and she opened her mouth to speak. Finally she shook her head and stepped for the hatch. "Okay. I have to run an errand. I'll be gone a few hours," she said as she slipped outside of the ship. "When I get back..."

"It'll be clean, General," Milo broke in, his voice wavering. "I promise."

Kali nodded once. "Thanks."

The tone of her voice...well, it wasn't one they heard often, and Stonewall winced inwardly as she clambered aboard the speeder bike that she'd used to navigate to and from Coachelle City, on the prime planet of the system of the same name. The moment she was out of sight, Stonewall glanced at his men. "You heard her, lads," he said, inflecting the words with an officer's growl that would have made Jango Fett proud. "Hop to it."

* * *

><p>"She's punishing us, isn't she?" Crest's voice was grim as he glanced up from the galley table, his eyes on the droid as it waddled from the 'fresher to the water reclamation unit, a heap of sopping towels in its spindly arms. As the LEP passed by, the bald clone lifted his feet onto the chair next to him, and he shifted his seat away from the droid's path.<p>

Traxis frowned, the scar on his face shifting with the expression. "She doesn't really work that way." Even though he'd finished cleaning his blaster rifle some time ago, his hands seemed unable to lift from its grip, his fingers resting lightly on the trigger as the servos of the LEP droid whined.

"Just keep quiet about it," Stonewall said as he stood just behind the cockpit, out of the droid's way. "Its going to make our lives easier." Even as the words left his mouth he felt his brows knitting in annoyance as the servant droid toddled from the disposal back to the 'fresher.

Milo and Weave were at the helm, and out of the corner of his eye, Stonewall caught them exchange a glance.

"It's unnatural," Crest added, his face set in an expression of one who'd eaten something sour. "We're supposed to _shoot_ tinnies, not watch them pick up our dirty socks."

The scarred clone nodded in agreement, his fingers twitching over his rifle.

"No one's going to _shoot_ Flopsy," Kalinda said, stepping out from the cabin that she and Stonewall shared and approaching the pear-shaped droid, which hurried over to her and stood at her feet. Its small, spherical head tilted up towards the Jedi, who looked back down at it with an unabashed affection that made the clone captain sigh. "He's here because I thought we needed some help keeping this place clean." She gave all of the clones a pointed look. "Do I have to remind you...?"

The droid – Stonewall refused to think of it as anything but – swiveled its "ears" and said something in a high-pitched voice that caused the clones to wince. Kali, of course, smiled at it. "Thank you, Flopsy**. **You can hit my room, next." The droid answered in the affirmative as it tottered around her legs and towards the cabin.

* * *

><p>Things continued in this fashion for several days. While it was nice to have the place clean without having to do any of the cleaning, it was difficult for Stonewall to hide his growing animosity towards the tinny. The only thing that kept his tongue in check was the fact that Kali was <em>beyond<em> fond of the damn thing, going so far as to let it power down in the room with them at night.

That had been _interesting_...the first time Stonewall had tried to initiate some nighttime distractions with the Jedi, Flopsy had come to life and somehow managed to propel its squat body on top of the bed to all but fling itself between Kali and Stone. Naturally, he'd made a move to tear it apart, but she'd stopped him and informed the captain that the LEP droids also had a "bodyguard" function, all while the damnable thing's servos hummed as it circled the Jedi warily.

Naturally, she'd found it amusing.

Stonewall...not so much. Particularly when "Flopsy" had continued playing bodyguard to Kali, not allowing the captain to get so much as a good-night kiss on her cheek that night or several after. Eventually Kali had found a way to dismiss the thing so that it'd give them some privacy, but that meant that it was loose in the interior of the ship.

And while his experience with the droid was certainly different from his brothers', he was by no means alone in his disdain for the new addition.

"I swear, if that flipping _thing_ gets underfoot one more time..." Traxis' mutter was dark as he collected the pile of ammo cartridges that he'd dropped as Flopsy had rushed past him to pick up a discarded bit of flimsi.

The ship was docked, awaiting clearance to leave Miletus. From his place at the helm, Milo shot the captain an almost pleading look. "Is she punishing us?" Beside him, Weave shook his head but said nothing.

Stonewall sighed. Flopsy wobbled to the disposal to drop off the offending flimsi, then made its way back to the galley, squatting down to fetch a cartridge that Trax had missed. When it approached the scarred clone, holding the item up to him, Stonewall saw the debate in his brother's eyes as his fingers closed around one of the vibro-blades at his sides.

While he'd never really done anything to spur the ire of the dark-haired woman, Stonewall wasn't willing to risk it over a _droid_. His throat cleared. Traxis frowned and snatched the cartridge from the LEP, who then turned and toddled back toward the galley.

At that moment, Crest emerged from the 'fresher. Hearing the door open, the LEP's head shot up, and its uneven gait quickened as it hurried over to the room, nearly knocking the bald clone out of the way in its haste to clean the 'fresher. "Watch it, you bucket of bolts," the clone muttered. "Or I'll send you to the nearest scrap heap."

"Or toss it out of the airlock," Milo chimed in from the helm.

Traxis chortled. "Got any droid poppers, baldy?"

"You know I do..."

"That's it," Stonewall said, pitching his voice loud enough to carry to all of them, but not so loud that he'd disturb Kali from her meditation session in her cabin. "That's enough out of all of you. We may not like it, but the fact is that we need to learn to live with the thing."

Traxis' arms folded in front of his chest while Crest stood beside him. "Easy for you to say, Captain," the scarred clone replied with a scowl. "You have a personal reason to keep the peace. We don't."

"Can't you talk to her for us?" Crest added. "That thing gives me the creeps...it's just _wrong_ for us to have to live on the same ship with a clanker."

While the bald clone spoke, Stonewall noticed that the droid's "ears" peaked around the 'fresher door, as if it were eavesdropping on the conversation. He tried to forget his personal disdain for the little thing, and keep in mind the smile that Kali got whenever it was near her. It was easier said than done. Stonewall shot a glare at the thing and watched its head pop back inside the 'fresher, the sounds of scrubbing and scent of citrus emerging moments later. With a sigh, Stone looked back at his men.

"I'll see what I can do."

* * *

><p>"No, Stone."<p>

Her arms were crossed in front of her chest, her chin was raised and her dark eyes were fixed on his. Flopsy was standing at her right side, close to her leg, slender hands folded as if in supplication.

The clone captain frowned. "Kali...I know you're fond of the thing-" Her brow lifted and he grimaced. _I refuse to call that bucket of bolts 'Flopsy.'_ "-Of the droid," he amended. "But it's causing a major disruption. It interferes with our daily activities...Weave even caught it messing with something at the helm."

That was a _slight_ exaggeration, as the droid had only been sweeping under the pilot's chair with a miniature dustpan and broom that it kept in its body-cavity, but Weave had nearly broken his neck tripping over it, which was – for Stonewall – the last straw.

The Jedi his gaze. "You're prejudiced against Flopsy because he's a droid."

"_It's_ a nuisance," Stonewall replied. Perhaps months ago, when they'd first begun their relationship, he would have backed down and let her – his lover and technically his CO – win the argument, but now...

The captain thought of his blocked advances and held his ground. "Kalinda...I'm sorry, but we're a democracy. Majority rules. It needs to go."

At his words, the servant droid seemed to quiver, shuffling behind her legs as its tiny head swiveled up to him. Spindly droid-fingers clutched at her leggings which caused Kalinda to glance down, and Stonewall watched with dismay as her gaze softened at the sight of the thing. Flopsy tilted its head to her, its "ears" seeming to droop a little before it nestled its face further into her leg. When she looked back up at him, there was steel in her eyes and he knew he'd lost the battle. To a tinny of all things.

_Damn. _

"Flopsy's part of our team," she replied. "An essential member. We may be a democracy, but I'm pulling rank, Stone. He stays." At his frown, she stepped forward, gracefully extricating herself from the LEP droid's grasp to embrace him. Stonewall found it difficult to be irritated at her kiss, and for one moment his annoyance fled in the wake of her lips against his-

"Ow!" He jumped back as he felt a sharp pinch through his bodysuit; they each looked down to see the droid crouched between them, hands raised, "ears" nearly flat back against its head. A giggling sound made him glance at the Jedi, and he was dismayed to see her covering her mouth with her hand. "This is funny, is it?" he asked, glaring back at the droid, who still appeared determined to "protect" the Jedi.

In response, Kali began laughing outright.

* * *

><p>They made up, of course. There wasn't much that would keep Stonewall annoyed with her for too long, and she'd made up their missing "alone time" later on that week after the squad's next mission had been completed. But even so.<p>

For some weeks, the clones and Flopsy existed in a fragile state of concord.

When Kalinda was present, they ignored the droid, which the Jedi must have noticed but said nothing about. When she was away, sleeping or meditating...

Stonewall would have bet money on either Traxis or Crest being the first to assault the tinny, but it was Weave, who'd come in early one morning to find the droid perched on the pilot's chair, running a wet-cloth along the controls. No one else had been present at the time, but according to the medic's account the droid had refused to budge from its place, even going so far as to grip the handles of the seat as Weave attempted to physically remove it.

"You know I'm not...temperamental," the medic said as he, Stonewall and Kalinda sat at the galley table and discussed the incident. "So when I say that I did what I had to do, I hope that you'll believe me." The whirring sound of servos came from beneath the table, and both clones tensed in their chairs, Weave shooting Stonewall a nervous glance as he did so.

Kalinda nodded, though Stone could tell she was not pleased. "I know. But Weave, he's so little. You could have seriously damaged something essential."

Crest, Milo and Traxis were dirtside, surveying the moon on which they'd landed, but in the back of his mind, Stonewall thought he could hear his bald brother's snort of derision. As it was, he kept his own sarcasm in check and cleared his throat before he replied, ensuring that his tone was neutral. "The safety of this squad and the proper functioning of the vessel should come before the working order of a servant droid, Kalinda."

"I agree," she replied. "But drop-kicking him across the ship?" She gave a shake of her head. "Weave...I expected more from you."

The medic glanced at Stonewall, who leaned forward even as he felt spindly hands along the front of his fatigues. Looking down, he noticed that the droid was crouched before him, picking off tiny flecks of lint from his pants. _Oh, for kriff's sake..._

"Stone?"

He glanced up at her. "It's tight quarters on the ship as it is, Kali. The addition of a-" He paused as droid-fingers gave a slight pinch. _It was an accident. It's just a mindless machine..._

Another pinch, this time a bit harder.

Stonewall's jaw tensed. Kali was still looking at him expectantly, while Weave seemed to be fluctuating between amusement, annoyance and confusion. He swallowed. "The addition of a droid is just too-"

There was no finishing the thought, as the droid pinched him again – much harder – and Stonewall reacted almost without thought. In one fluid motion, he drew his blaster from its place at his side and fired once, below the table, noting with satisfaction that his aim was perfect. "Flopsy" clattered to the floor, a charred hole clean through its skull.

Kali's mouth had fallen open as she stared at the clone captain, though after a moment she recovered enough to peer beneath the table to take in the sight of the defunct droid as well as the smoking muzzle of Stone's blaster, still pointed at its goal. As she did so, Weave shot the captain a startled look, though he mouthed the words, _thank you_ after a moment.

Stone nodded, but said nothing.

When Kali reappeared, she was clutching the LEP droid in her arms, her expression filled with remorse, and for a moment, Stonewall was almost sorry he'd shot the thing.

Almost.

"I'm sorry I upset you," he said, straightening in his seat as she ran her fingertips over the droid's "ears." "But Kali...it was-"

"It's fine, Stone," she interrupted, not meeting his eyes. "Don't worry about it."

The tone of her voice was calm, as if she was speaking of the weather. Weave shot him a nervous look, but said nothing; he seemed supremely uncomfortable, so the captain indicated that he could leave. As soon as the medic was out of the ship, Stonewall stood and moved to her side to put an arm around her shoulder. "Kali..."

Finally she looked at him. "Was he really that bad?"

"Worse."

She nodded and sighed. After another moment she shook her head. "Okay. But if the ship gets messy – even a little bit like it was – I'm getting another one. Two or three, maybe." Her dark eyes met his and he relaxed a little, seeing that there was no smoldering fire within them, and thinking that she was not as upset as he'd feared.

"That's fair," he replied with a nod. On a whim, he leaned forward to kiss her cheek, but she abruptly turned away, and his stomach dropped. _Maybe I jumped to conclusions._

"You should bunk with the guys tonight," she said after a moment as she moved to her cabin.

"Wait...what?" He stared after her in confusion.

The Jedi cast him a dry look. "Actions have consequences, remember?"

All-too-well.

* * *

><p>That night, as he lay on the spare sleeping bag between Crest and Weave, in the room that all the clones shared, Stonewall couldn't sleep. After an hour of tossing and turning he moved to sit up, to try and reconcile with the dark-haired woman, but Crest stopped him with a hand against his chest.<p>

"Don't know much about women," he said though the darkness. "But I think you should leave her alone for now." Stone sighed and sat back on his bed, rubbing at his forehead and thinking that the tinny was getting revenge, even after its demise.

"I'm only sorry I wasn't here to see you smoke that crinking thing," Traxis added, echoing his thoughts.

Milo spoke next, his voice still muddled with sleep. "I think you did the right thing, Captain. The only good tinny is a dead one, isn't it?"

"Thanks, Stonewall," Weave's words were soft. "But I am sorry that she kicked you out. I don't think it will last long, though."

That was true, at least. _He's right. I know. I hope. _Stonewall sighed and laid back down, trying to sleep.

After a few minutes, Crest let out a chuckle. "You're a braver man than me, anyway...thanks for taking one for the team, Cap. You should get a medal or something."

* * *

><p><em>So...I feel kind of "meh" about this one. I also think it's kinda OOC. *shrugs* Maybe it can just be AU...<br>_

_Anyway, Flopsy's name is taken from a character in _The Tail of Peter Rabbit. _Seemed fitting. _:P

_One last thing...check out my profile, please! Big stuff going on..._


	10. The Not So Secret

_A/N: This Misadventure takes place during Chapter Two of _Warriors of Shadow._ Thanks to _**Jade_Max**_ for the idea! Also, it's a bit on the longish side...oops. :P_

* * *

><p><strong>The Not-So-Secret<strong>

While he inventoried the contents of the squad's medipacs, Weave surveyed his brothers across the rounded table in the galley of their little ship: Traxis was – as always – engrossed in tending to his myriad array of weaponry, the clicks and clatters of blaster components being pulled apart and pieced back together filled the air; in stark contrast, the bald clone Crest was idly thumbing through a holo-zine he'd found who-knows-where, his expression indicating that his mind wasn't really focused on whatever he was reading; the youngest of the group, Milo, was at the helm, and a casual glance his way showed Weave that the shiny's attention was fixed on the stars.

As the craft slipped through the wavering starfield of hyperspace, the ship's engines made a comfortable humming sound; the squad had just departed the planet Coraux and were awaiting orders for their next destination, at which time they'd likely be engrossed in another unusual mission under the leadership of Jedi Knight, Kalinda Halcyon and the clone captain, Stonewall.

Both of whom were noticeably absent at the moment, having just retired to the Jedi's private quarters to "go over intel" and "work on mission reports."

Weave was not a sarcastic man by nature, but he gave a small shake of his head at the thought: _I'm_ _sure that's _exactly_ what they're doing, too. _In the six weeks that he'd been assigned to this squad, he'd noticed that, somewhere along the way, the captain and the Jedi had developed a relationship that was less-than-professional.

Aside from one specific incident which stood out in his mind, there had been a collection of rather...interesting behavior that the general and the captain had started to exhibit when they were around each other: flushing cheeks, pupil dilation, increased pulse rate...all of these things indicated to the medic that a physical reaction was occurring in the bodies of the General Halcyon and Captain Stonewall when they were in the other's company.

It was easy enough for Weave to read the captain; as a fellow clone, he could clearly discern the signals that the captain was giving off, albeit subconsciously. When she was around Stonewall, the attraction that he felt for her was plain to see; in addition to the pulse and pupil dilation, there were other physiological signs that indicated...well, Weave sometimes wished that he wasn't as observant as he was.

As for the general...Human biology was relatively similar between males and females, wasn't it? And there was a..._way_ that she looked at Stonewall. Weave couldn't really describe it, other than to think it was an expression that was mirrored in the captain's eyes when he watched the dark-haired woman.

However, despite their prevalence, these obvious signals didn't really bother him; both clone and Jedi had not shown signs of being distracted during any of the squad's missions, but Weave couldn't deny that it was...awkward, when times were quiet.

Like right now.

A muffled sound came from the general's quarters; it may have been laughter, but Weave didn't want to think about it too hard. Instead, he gave a deep sigh and resumed counting bacta-patches. However, Crest and Traxis must have caught the sound as well; the latter pulled a face while the former shook his head and appeared to be fighting back a chuckle. At the helm, Milo was fiddling with something on the navacomputer, and still appeared to be oblivious to anything that was happening elsewhere on the ship.

Weave sighed again.

At the sound, Crest glanced up, his eyes darting between the others at the table. "There's a bantha in the room. It's not just me who notices, right?"

Traxis rolled his eyes, the slight movement making the jagged scar that ribboned across his face give a minute shift. "More like a herd of banthas."

"Keep it down," Weave replied, flicking his eyes to Milo, who was still intent over the nav. "Not _everyone_ has noticed, and I think it should stay that way."

Crest looked thoughtful as he glanced at the holo-zine, his face washed in blue by the light from the slender, rectangular object. "Should we say something? It's getting a bit...obvious."

"Who cares what the shiny thinks?" Traxis muttered, but his tone was low.

"Not to _him_," Crest replied, rolling his eyes. He thumbed towards the door to the Jedi's quarters, where she and the captain were ensconced. "To our commanding officers, Trax. Remember them?"

Weave frowned and toyed with the package of cotton swabs in his hands as he thought out loud. "What good would it do?"

At this, Crest shrugged, but leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner. "I don't know, exactly. What I _do_ know is that it's kriffing awkward to keep pretending that we have no idea what's going on between them. Honestly," he added, rolling his eyes again in a dramatic fashion. "The way they talk to each other is proof enough...even without all the private, fake-report-writing time they spend in her room, it'd be obvious."

Both Weave and Traxis frowned at him, but it was the medic who spoke, still making sure his voice wast pitched low. "What do you mean, 'the way they talk to each other?'"

He'd noticed the physical signs of arousal being exchanged between the Jedi and the clone, but as far as he was concerned, they'd always interacted with one another in a wholly professional manner.

"Oh, wow. You mean I didn't tell you? Listen to this..." Crest lifted his brows, and – after another glance to ensure that Milo was still not paying attention – began to speak.

* * *

><p>It was right after the mission on the planet Japarran, when the squad had stopped to refuel their transport on a small, unnamed moon in the Outer Rim; while the others remained with the ship, Crest went with both General Halcyon and Captain Stonewall to collect some basic necessities at the general store that served those who passed through the station. If possible, the squad would do such a thing on a Republic cruiser, but on this occasion they had been unable to manage, and the Jedi had decided to use some of the limited allotment of credits she'd been given to purchase enough supplies to make it until they reached the next Republic ship.<p>

The fueling station was humble: a squat, duracrete building whose interior housed both a general store and a 'fresher, all of which were – according to the sign out front – clean and well-stocked.

Crest didn't really get what 'well-stocked' had to do with a 'fresher; he'd asked to come along only because he wanted to use a 'fresher that wasn't tiny and cramped, like the one on the ship. It was a small space, really, made even more so by the presence of five other adults, and sometimes a guy really needed time _alone_, to think-

* * *

><p>"Are your bathroom habits really necessary to share?" Traxis interrupted, glowering at his bald brother.<p>

Crest exhaled through his nose and returned the glare, though there was laughter in his eyes. "Who's telling this story, Trax? I'm setting the scene, okay?"

Weave lifted his hand. "Guys...come on."

"Fine, fine," Crest said with another eye-roll. "So...I was off in the 'fresher while they went to collect the supplies, right?"

* * *

><p>Once he finished, he washed his hands and stepped out of the small room, making his way back to the store where he presumed his CO s were waiting. He'd been right, but what he found took him by surprise, which was saying something, because he considered himself a pretty worldly guy.<p>

The Jedi and the captain were standing before a display of items – he still had no clue what they were, even after the conversation he overheard. The picture on the display indicated that the contents appeared to come in various, fluorescent colors as well as contain some type of "fruit-flavor" that was supposed to be appealing "to her."

Crest moved to approach them, but when he came within earshot, the nature of the conversation froze him in his tracks; he found himself standing behind a large, cardboard cutout of an Ithorian wearing a cooking apron and advertising some kind of holo-book, the figure's significant girth allowing him to see while remaining unseen.

"I'm not sure I understand," the captain was saying, brow furrowed as he studied one of the packages

General Halcyon appeared to be engrossed in the selection of foodstuffs at a nearby shelf, like she was deliberately trying not to look at Stonewall; because of this, Crest figured that she was too distracted to notice his presence through the Force. At the captain's words her entire face grew pink, and she exhaled in a rush before replying. "I don't know how much more clear I can make it, Stone. It goes..." She lifted her hand as if to indicate the clone's armored waist.

The captain looked at her, clearly torn between amusement, embarrassment and confusion. "No, I understand _that_ part...just...why do they need to be _flavored_?"

"Well...sometimes, some people...just..." She appeared to be at a loss, which Crest found highly interesting, as he'd only ever seen the Jedi acting cool and capable. She had a sense of humor he could appreciate, but this was the first time he'd ever seen her truly flummoxed. Granted, they hadn't been working together all that long. Maybe her furious blushing was some female thing he had no knowledge of.

After another moment she shook her head and looked up at Stonewall. "Some people _like_ flavored, Stone. Some don't. See," she added, indicating another package on the display. "Those are normal. No special flavors, colors or...textures."

"Which kind do you like?" The words were spoken in an offhand way, as if Stonewall hadn't really meant to say them out loud; in the next moment Crest's eyes widened as he watched the captain's own face grow red as he shoved the box back against the display with enough force to nearly topple it over. As he fumbled to right the display, his expression seemed to indicate that he wished he hadn't said anything at all. "Erm...never mind."

General Halcyon was flushing as well, harder than before, though she appeared to be trying to hide it. "It's okay." She gave a light, nervous laugh and shot the captain a wry glance. "Might be a little too soon to start thinking about that kind of thing, Stone."

Stonewall ducked his head and appeared to be fighting back a smile; he was unsuccessful, as he looked up, caught her eyes and grinned. His face was still red. "Copy that, General."

"Better safe than sorry, though, right?" Her voice held an edge of wry humor.

However, the captain knitted his brows and frowned. "What?"

Crest shared his bewilderment, but before he could process the Jedi's words she shook her head again and turned to leave. "Never mind. Come on...we should get going. The cashier said he'd see that the supplies got to the ship-"

"Kalinda," Stonewall said suddenly, interrupting her with a light touch against her wrist. Crest felt his jaw unhinge at the clone's use of her name, but she seemed unconcerned, though she did look up at Stonewall in confusion. "Just to be clear, I wasn't trying to insinuate..."

Her face softened, as did her voice, so much so that Crest barely caught the next words. "I know, Stone."

They smiled at each other for a long moment, after.

* * *

><p>Weave shook his head in disbelief. "She didn't sense you? I find that a little hard to believe, even for you."<p>

"From what I could tell, she was distracted by their conversation," Crest said, lifting his brows in a suggestive manner. "_Very _distracted...by our dear Captain, no less. And," he added with a knowing look. "He called her 'Kalinda.' Not 'General Halcyon.' Not 'sir.' _Kalinda_."

Pursing his lips in thought, Weave shot a glance at the helm; Milo now appeared to be checking over a datapad he'd hooked up to the nav – probably running a diagnostic or something – and still appeared unaware of the conversation of his brothers. The medic looked back at Crest and Traxis and opened his mouth to speak.

However, the scarred clone beat him to the punch. "Yeah. I remember that stop. I wondered why you were acting weirder than usual when you finally got back." Traxis frowned and drummed the fingers of his right hand against the table-top in thought. "But you know, I noticed something similar. It was about a two weeks after what you told us about, baldy. Remember when we all got separated on Thyferra?"

Crest held out his palm parallel to the table-top and moved it down in a pressing motion, silently urging the other clone to lower the volume of his voice. With this, Trax's hand abruptly stilled and as one, all three of them glanced towards the room where the Jedi and the clone were – still – then turned back to each other as Traxis began to speak.

* * *

><p>The mission to Thyferra had <em>not <em>gone well in the least.

From the moment the squad had landed and begun their search for any intel that might lend credence to the rumor that the massive bacta-production facilities of the planet were being illicitly observed by the Seps, everything had gone wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong.

Trax didn't feel like recalling the details, but suffice it to say that three hours after he'd stepped off of the ship, he'd lost his favorite blaster pistol, been shot at, gotten spit on _and_ covered in foul-smelling mud by some native creature, been shot at _again_, and unwittingly stumbled _shebs_-first into an old water-well, sufficiently soaking him to the bone.

And all that trouble was all from the _locals_. They hadn't even encountered any Seppies...though Trax figured that would be even _more_ fun.

"I still can't get a hold of the others," the captain was saying as he, Traxis and General Halcyon paused to take a seat on a fallen log beneath the shade of a massive tree to take a breather. They'd been walking for hours, trying to reach the RV point that the two groups had been agreed upon before they'd separated to achieve the mission objective. Pausing to remove his helmet, Stonewall looked at the Jedi as he added: "Comms still aren't working."

General Halcyon had moved her hand to her left knee like she was about to rub it – which would mean that her old injury was bothering her – but she ultimately kept her hand still as though she was trying to hide the fact. Instead, she squinted up at the sky; the sun was high, indicating it was around noon, and the dark-haired Jedi gave a deep sigh. "At least the bacta facilities seem to be secure."

"Great," Traxis said, before he could stop himself. "I _love_ getting shot at for no reason, especially by the folks we're supposed to be _helping_. Bunch of ungrateful-"

"Trax." The captain's voice cut him off mid-swear, and Trax bit back a retort to Stonewall's sharp look, a look that clearly said, _don't swear in front of the Jedi. Or else. _

So, instead Traxis tugged at his armor, which had dried unevenly; his bodysuit was starting to pinch in places where it wasn't supposed to do such a thing, and he wondered if the chafing mud had somehow infiltrated through the layer of suit. He glanced up at the officers, both of whom appeared to be trying _not_ to look at each other: the captain had stood up again and begun to survey the open patch of meadow that Trax could make out between the slotted treeline that surrounded them, while the Jedi had started to surreptitiously rub her knee.

"I need a minute," he said, getting to his feet. "Suit's messed up. I'll be right back."

General Halcyon shot him a swift smile. "Take your time. We'll be here, Trax."

He meant to go farther than he had, he really did, but about ten steps away, once he'd slipped through the cover of a particularly thick patch of shrubbery, Trax knew without a doubt that _something_ had gotten into his suit, and he was forced to stop in his tracks, take a knee and work to get the kriffing thing out. Several uncomfortable, fumbling moments later, and he found the culprit: a leaf.

A flipping leaf. Of course, it had slightly serrated edges, like a blade, but still...of all the-

* * *

><p>"Okay, <em>now<em> who's being unnecessarily long-winded?" Crest broke in. "Seriously, I can see us all growing older as you're talking. Come _on_, Trax. Get over the 'flipping leaf' and get back to the story."

Weave had to fight back a chuckle at the scarred clone's look of indignation. "I let you prattle on about the 'fresher, you know," Traxis said with a glare at his bald brother.

"_That_ was relevant," Crest replied, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. "This is just silly."

"Silly?"

_For kriff's sake,_ Weave thought with a sigh. _This is getting ridiculous._ "Crest, be quiet and let him tell the story, okay? Trax...you found a leaf. What happened next?"

The scarred clone shot Crest a final scowl before he continued.

* * *

><p>Once the leaf was properly disposed of – torn in a dozen, fluttering pieces – Trax had every intention of returning to the others, but he caught a soft bit of speech from the Jedi that made him pause, brows knitting in confusion.<p>

"It's really okay, Stone..." She sounded vaguely exasperated, but there was an unfamiliar edge to her tone that he couldn't categorize immediately.

However, before he could analyze it, the captain replied. "Kali...I can tell it's bothering you."

_Kali_? That was certainly unorthodox, but since he'd joined the Jedi's squad, Trax had noted her dislike of being referred to as "General," despite the dictates of protocol. Again, he made to move, but the next words – spoken by the captain – stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Let me take a look?"

"Stone..." There was that unfamiliar edge again, which Trax realized was affection. Not that he really understood _why_ she'd feel affection towards the captain, but it didn't really matter, because in the next moment the Jedi let out a sigh, but he heard the distinct sound of a boot being tossed onto the ground. "Okay," she said. "But there's nothing you can do."

There was a pause, then Stonewall spoke in a faintly teasing voice. "I'll be the judge of that, General."

For a moment, Trax was stunned. He'd never heard the captain refer to her in such a way. The title was proper; the tone behind it was anything but. For a long moment he debated between returning to them and staying put. Eventually, he chose the latter, partly because he had no inclination to interrupt whatever was occurring between them, and partly because he felt the presence of another pointy leaf that had somehow worked its way into his armpit.

He figured if he stood up he'd give his position away, so he chose to stay in a crouch, working to remove the armor on his left arm so that he could find the offending bit of foliage and destroy it. As he did so, he realized he could see glimpses of the Jedi and the clone captain through breaks in the bush he was crouched behind. She was still seated on the fallen tree, though now her left leg was bootless and her leggings had been rolled up to her mid-thigh; leaning back on her hands, she was watching the clone captain with an intensity that Traxis hadn't noticed before.

Stonewall was seated before her outstretched foot, his ungloved fingertips lightly grazing the bare skin of her left knee as if he was surveying the area with touch as well as his eyes. He seemed...hesitant, Trax thought. His movements were not as perfunctory as they should have been for a basic medical examination; rather, he appeared to be lingering over her knee, while at the same time the barely-there rise and fall of his chest signaled to Trax that the captain was hardly breathing.

After a moment, the general seemed to decide something. She shuffled forward so that both of her knees settled across the captain's lap, the bare skin of her left leg caught in a patch of sunlight that was filtering through the trees. Now, Trax noted, neither of them appeared to be breathing. He wondered that she hadn't sensed his presence, but he dismissed the thought as he studied her expression, which was riveted on Stonewall.

_Even Jedi get distracted,_ he thought with a frown._ Huh. Didn't realize that. _

Finally she spoke, her voice a bit softer than it should have been. "You're right. It does hurt."

At this point, they had all seen her scar, the remnant of a childhood injury that caused her to limp upon occasion. In truth, Trax didn't know why the captain had even wanted to see it, because there was nothing he could do for an old wound like that.

But now, he realized as he watched Stonewall look at her, now it made captain placed his hand on her knee, touching her bare skin with his palm, and held her gaze. "I know." He paused, then slowly began to knead his fingertips along the curve of her kneecap, massaging gently. After a moment he spoke again. "Is this helping, or does that make it hurt more?"

"No, it's nice..." Her eyes closed for a moment, and she gave a small exhale. It was an intimate sound, and Traxis suddenly felt supremely uncomfortable with his predicament; he'd forgotten himself in the wake of his curiosity, so he decided to announce his presence and give them a chance to compose themselves before he returned.

* * *

><p>"I felt like a <em>di'kut<em>," Trax said, rolling his eyes. "It was _so_ stupid...I started cursing and rustling around in the bush like I'd gotten stuck or something. I just...I couldn't sit there anymore." He frowned and leaned back in his chair, rubbing at his eyes as he did so.

Crest and Weave exchanged glances before the bald clone looked back at Trax, his eyes wide. "Wow...that's actually way better than my story. I can't believe you were holding out."

Traxis sighed, then reached at the small crate at his feet; he withdrew a steel blade and a sharpening stone and began to run the stone across the edge of the knife. "What was going on between them was really...familiar, baldy. I didn't feel like gossiping to you the first chance I got."

"What happened after that?" Weave asked. "By the time we all met up again, they seemed pretty...normal."

"After I made my entrance, they were kind of...flustered for a minute," Traxis said as he tilted the blade in the light, examining the newly-sharpened edge. "But they got over it pretty quickly. To be honest, I didn't think much about it after that...you remember how crazy things got when we all met up again, right?"

All of the clones exchanged a light chuckle in recollection of the Thyferra mission, though Weave heard an undercurrent of apprehension in the sound. He glanced at the helm again to ensure that Milo was still not paying attention – indeed, the shiny was still engrossed in his diagnostic – and then looked between his squad-mates.

"Back to the matter at hand," he said in a low voice. "What – if anything – do we want to do about this?"

Traxis frowned as he skimmed the whetstone over his blade. "I don't like secrets. I also don't like officers being distracted, you know?"

"We need to get them to come clean," Crest said, shaking his head. "It's silly...I don't really care what they do, do you? As long as we don't have to...you know..._hear_ anything, I'm okay with it. Go Stonewall, if you ask me."

Crest punctuated his words with an audible guffaw, which caused Milo to glance over from the helm, brows lifted. "Everything okay, guys? Sounds like you're having one interesting discussion over there."

The younger clone's voice sounded bright, with a hopeful edge that made Weave sigh inwardly. _He just wants to be part of the group, _the medic thought. _But I don't know how he'd react to this if he knew...you can never tell with shinies. They're like loose cannons, sometimes. _

"We're good, Milo," he said. "Just comparing notes from the last mission. Hey, how's that diagnostic going?"

Milo twisted around in his seat and held up the 'pad he'd hooked into the nav. "Great. All systems are checking out."

"You didn't need to do that, now, you know," Weave said in a careful voice, testing his theory. "I did one before the mission to Coraux."

A faint exhale sounded from the younger clone and he shot the medic an almost exasperated look. "Regulations state that all ship's systems are to be checked via diagnostic within one cycle after every mission."

Weave tried not to notice the snicker that Crest was attempting to hide behind his hand, or the not-so-subtle eye-roll that Traxis gave at the words. Instead, he gave Milo a warm smile. "Ah, right. Thanks for staying on top of things, Mi."

If Milo noticed something was amiss with the others, he didn't say anything about it. Instead he straightened and gave Weave a brief nod before turning back to the nav. While the others exchanged amused glances, Weave skimmed his hands over the twin strips of hair that had been shaved into his skull, collecting his thoughts.

Finally he looked back at Crest and Trax, and spoke in a low voice as he began to put his medkit away.

"We're not wrong, Traxis. There is...something...going on between them. From what I can tell, it's pretty serious, too."

"From what you can tell?" Crest asked, leaning forward with raised brows. "Is that from what we talked about or did you see something, too?"

He sounded far too eager, but Weave thought that it didn't matter so much anymore, as the "secret" appeared to be out already. With a nod, he began to speak, keeping his voice pitched low, but not too low so he wouldn't arouse Milo's suspicions. It wouldn't do any good to have the younger clone learning of the conversation taking place, especially since he'd actually been involved in the incident in question.

"It happened just over a week ago, when we were beginning to plan the mission to the Coraux foundry," he began. "We'd just landed on Coraux and split into two teams to do some reconnaissance..."

* * *

><p>It was standard procedure, really, though the teams often changed. Today, Stonewall, Crest and Traxis had slipped off through the sand-dunes to take a look for suitable areas to set up their camp while General Halcyon, Weave and Milo were on their way to observe the surrounding countryside and check for potential points-of-attack.<p>

This part of Coraux was rather interesting; Weave had never before encountered the kind of sandy beaches that appeared to be prevalent here, nor had he seen an ocean that was so...calm. And blue, though it was a deeper blue than that of the cloudless sky. It was early morning, and the three of them were jogging along the beach, frothy waves lapping behind them to conceal their footprints as they traveled. In the distance, the foundry loomed against the skyline, but from what Weave had been able to tell with his HUD and his portable scanner, there were no enemies in the immediate area, so the mood was relatively light.

After about half an hour they paused at a curve of the shore, obscured from view of the foundry and beneath the shade of a sloping, sugary sand-dune.

The dunes were rather interesting, actually, and Weave was pleased to get a chance to study them up close. Formed by the rushing wind, they were critical in protecting the inward section of land against potential torrents of seawater that would be stirred up by any storms. Furthermore-

* * *

><p>"<em>Weave<em>." Traxis and Crest spoke simultaneously, drawing the medic out of his thoughts. He blinked for a moment as he absorbed their annoyed expressions, then sighed.

"Sorry...got a little carried away in the details," he said, wincing. "Right, so we stopped for a break at these huge sand dunes..."

* * *

><p>Weave immediately began running though the information he'd collected in his HUD about the area, assessing the data and trying to determine if they'd found any weak points in the foundry's defense, while Milo took a seat at the foot of the dune and looked out over the sea.<p>

General Halcyon stood at the ocean's edge, hand lifted to shield her eyes from the glare of the sun. It was unclear what she was doing, but Weave thought that she might just be taking in the view. Indeed, a moment later, she glanced behind her at the two clones and gave them a smile. "It's so beautiful, isn't it?" she asked. "I'd almost forgotten how much I love the beach."

Weave nodded and gave an affirmative reply, but Milo jumped to his feet and strode over to her side as if to look as well. Though he didn't remove his helmet, he appeared to be studying the lapping waves. Finally he turned her way. "It's very pretty, General. I've never seen the ocean like this," he added in an offhand voice.

"What do you mean, Mi?"

The younger clone shrugged, then lifted his hand to the sea, the sky. "On Kamino, it's always stormy, isn't it, Weave? Not pretty and calm like this."

The mention of his name caused Weave to look up and nod, but his eyes fell on the Jedi, who'd gotten a thoughtful look on her face. She nodded slowly and glanced at the sea once more. After a few minutes, she looked back at Milo and Weave. "I think you two can handle this. There's...something else I'd like to take a look at," she said, adding: "Nothing dangerous, just...I think I should go alone."

Beneath his bucket, Weave had to sigh at the flimsy excuse. He'd seen the way that she and the captain had acted around each other, and he would bet any amount of money – if he'd had any money – that she was preparing to meet Stonewall in a few minutes.

"But that's against protocol, sir," Milo said, the words apparently coming out before he could stop them. Weave tried not to sigh at the younger clone's voice, which sounded perplexed. "We're technically on a hostile planet...no one is supposed to go off alone."

A glance up showed Weave that the Jedi was looking at Milo with a mixture of affection and exasperation, though when she replied her voice was very calm. Suspiciously calm, as if she was trying to disguise the fact that she was exhilarated or anxious about something. "I'm overriding protocol Milo."

After that, she turned her face to Weave. "I have my earpiece comlink," she said, tapping her right ear. "If you need me, just say the word."

"Of course, General," Weave replied, though he didn't salute her, as he'd noticed how she didn't seem to care for the gesture; anyway, there was no way he was going to disturb her, not now. With another smile at the bewildered Milo, she turned and headed back down the shoreline, in the direction they'd come. _Yes_, he thought with a sigh as he watched the rapid pace of her steps. _Sh__e's going to meet with him. No doubt about it._

If he were honest, Weave didn't really mind, even in this instance. Arguably, a Jedi and two clones was overkill for a scouting mission like this, and he found that he liked both General Halcyon and Captain Stonewall enough to overlook...whatever it was that had cropped up between them.

It wasn't any of _his_ business, after all.

Once she was out of earshot, the younger clone shook his head and looked at Weave, who was getting to his feet, dusting sand out of the creases of his armor.

"Can she do that? Just...take off?"

"She's our CO, Milo," Weave said with a shrug. "Do you want to question her?"

There was a frown in Milo's voice. "No, of course not, but...I mean, it's odd, isn't it? Regs are there to keep us all safe – Jedi and clone – so it doesn't make sense for her to...override them."

Weave was opening his mouth to reply when a shadow passed over them, slipping across the pale sand and making for the direction of the foundry. Instinctively, both clones froze, and Weave was thankful for the first time in his life that his armor was so white, as it blended in with the surrounding sand. Immediately, he used his HUD to track the source of the shadow, which was moving too smoothly to be a living creature.

_There!_

"Scout droid," Milo said in a grim voice, having apparently done the same thing as Weave. "Do you think it saw us?"

"I don't know," Weave replied, frowning in thought as he watched slender, hovering tinny skim towards the distant foundry. "I'd think if it did, it would have swung back around."

Nodding, Milo tapped his bucket. "We should let her know, shouldn't we?"

With that, Weave blinked into his HUD to open a channel to the general's comlink; however, he was met only with static. He tried again, to the same result, and tried not to feel annoyance. New tech was finicky, sometimes...he'd have to try and tweak her comlink later on, when they got a chance. Maybe if he adjusted the frequency receptor...

"Weave," Milo's voice snapped him back to the present. "I can't reach her. What should we do?"

There was nothing for it; this mission relied on stealth and secrecy, and even though they'd been jogging in broad daylight, this section of the planet was uninhabited, and they'd done a full-sensor sweep of the area prior to landing to ensure they'd have no surprises.

Apparently it had not been fool-proof. "Try to call the others," Weave said as he turned back for the ship. "Have them meet us at our transport; we'll figure it out from there."

They began to hurry down the beach, taking pains to check for any further scout droids, though happily they encountered none. On the way back, Milo informed him that Crest and Traxis were going to meet them at the ship as planned, but that the captain had – for some reason – left them some time ago, saying that he'd been recalled by the Jedi. The tone of the young clone's voice indicated that he was inordinately pleased with the news, which Weave found amusing.

"It means she listened to me," he said happily as they jogged along the beach. "So she _is_ following protocol, after all. Weave...?" Milo's tone shifted to perplexed, and Weave was fighting back a snort of laughter. "Why is that funny?"

"It's not, Milo," Weave replied, forcing himself to be calm. "I'm glad she's following protocol, too."

A thought occurred to him, and he attempted to open a channel to Stonewall, to inform the officer that the squad was reconvening at the ship, but he got no reply.

Weave didn't know what that indicated, but he figured it was certainly _not_ protocol.

They made good time, reaching the ship's location in a thick patch of forest that bordered the beach, and as Milo strode for the ship's entrance – which was lowered to the ground as if someone was aboard – Weave tried again to reach the captain or the Jedi.

Nothing.

"There you are, General!"

The sound of Milo's voice made Weave look up as he made his own way to the ramp, at the edge of which the younger clone had paused to greet the emerging officers. Weave nearly said something to Milo, but all thoughts fled his mind when he took in the state of Stonewall and the general.

For starters, they were each flushed and breathing heavily, as though they'd been sprinting; Weave saw that the area around the Jedi's mouth was bright pink, as though she'd been scraped by something rough and sandpapery...like stubble. He glanced at Stonewall's face and noted that the captain hadn't had a chance to shave recently.

Oh, kriff.

It was one thing to speculate; it was quite another to have the proof handed to you. Weave glanced at Milo, who was recounting the incident with the scout droid, gesturing in the direction of the foundry to a rather flushed and – there was no other word for it – disheveled Jedi and clone captain, both of whom appeared to be overly interested in the information, as if trying to deflect Milo's attention from their respective states.

"Were you seen?" Stonewall said, after taking a breath.

Milo shook his head, his chest puffing up just a little bit with pride. "No, sir. At least," he amended, shooting Weave a querying glance. "I don't think we were..."

The medic cleared his throat and stepped forward, wondering why it was so hard to look either his captain or his general in the eye. "As far as we could tell, sirs, the scout droid didn't notice us. It seems that our armor blended in with the sand."

"That's a first," the Jedi said, smiling up at the captain, who wore the expression of a man who was trying not to return the look. She glanced back at Weave and Milo. "Were you able to contact the others?"

As Milo answered her, Weave studied his squad-mate; the younger clone appeared to have no understanding of what was going on between the two officers, and he didn't know if that was a good thing or not. Honestly, Weave didn't know what to make of the fact himself, now that he'd collected the data, but he thought that – if Milo really didn't know – it might be...easier to see that he stayed in the dark. Ignorance was bliss, after all.

* * *

><p>"I don't like keeping him out of the loop," Weave added, glancing at the helm at Milo, who was fixated on the stars. "But until we know how he's going to react, I think it's the wisest move. He couldn't believe it when the general 'broke protocol' to go off on her own, you know?"<p>

When he looked back at Crest and Traxis, they were gaping at him as if he'd sprouted a second head. "What?"

"I take it back, Trax," Crest said, glancing at the scarred clone and thumbing towards Weave. "_He's_ got the best story. Wow..."

Traxis sighed. "Sounds like it's true, at any rate." He frowned down at the blade he'd been sharpening, which he'd set in his lap as he'd listened to the story; moments later, he'd stowed the weapon and whetstone and brought out a sabacc deck. However, rather than deal the cards, he toyed with them for a moment. "So...what's our next move?"

All three clones glanced towards the door to the Jedi's room then looked back at each other. "Secrets like this have a way of coming out eventually," Weave said slowly, lacing his fingers on the table. "Maybe if we wait, the situation will resolve itself."

"How?" Traxis countered with a scowl, his hands tightening on the deck of cards. "Either they get more...whatever...or it ends. And I have to tell you, I've seen this kind of thing end, and it's not pretty."

"You've seen Jedi and a clone...?" Weave asked.

The scarred clone shook his head. "Not quite, but close enough."

"You're right, Weave; secrets like this do have a way of coming out," Crest said, leaning forward and sweeping his eyes over his squad-mates. "And Trax...I know what you mean. If it ends, it'll end badly."

"What are you getting at, baldy?"

Crest took a breath; his tone was uncommonly serious. "We have to say something, It's the only choice, really."

At his words, Traxis frowned again, and Weave gave a small shake of his head. "I'm not sure, Crest."

"I know there are no regs for this," the bald clone said, reaching out to grab the sabacc cards from Traxis, who glared at him. "But it's...I don't know. I can't explain it. It's..._wrong_ to not say anything and pretend that we don't know. Doesn't it feel wrong?"

Weave looked at Traxis, who shrugged, but after a moment gave a slow nod. "Yeah. It does. And I don't like pretending, either."

Each of them cast Weave a look, and he winced internally. Would it be right to say something? Part of him liked the balance that the squad had struck; they worked well together, even if they were a little rough around the edges at times. As for the captain and the Jedi...he'd seen them in action on that first mission to Japarran, and several ones that followed. They made a good team, and he could tell that the others felt that way, too.

As a medic, he knew that it was important to have all the data available in any given situation – the right kind of information could save lives, after all – and he figured that translated to the more emotional aspects of life. Furthermore, if the captain and the general felt they had to hide their relationship from the squad, they might be too distracted with lying to focus on more important things. It hadn't happened yet, but if things progressed as they were, and the relationship grew more serious...

A soft noise sounded from the direction of the Jedi's room, and Weave gave a sigh. "Okay," he said with a slow nod. "You're right, Crest."

"Can you say that again? I should make a recording." Crest sounded inordinately pleased, and began shuffling the sabacc cards

Weave gave the bald clone a stern look, though his expression smoothed as an idea occurred to him. "By the way," he said in a light voice. "Thanks for volunteering to do the deed."

Traxis gave a snort of laughter when Crest's eyes widened, the cards frozen in his hand. "Wait...what? Me?"

"Of course," Weave replied. "You're the one with the brilliant idea. It's only fair that you be the one to make it a reality. Just make sure you wait for the right time, okay?"

Before Crest could reply, the door to the general's quarters slid open and the captain slipped out; immediately, every clone at the table tensed, though Stonewall only made his way to the helm to speak to Milo. As he did so, Weave shot Crest a look. The bald clone blinked and proceeded to shuffle the sabacc cards.

When the captain approached their table, the Crest took a breath and any apprehension that may have been in his eyes faded to nothing. "Hey, Cap! Up for a little sabacc?"

* * *

><p><em>Thanks for reading. Let me know what you thought of this<em> Misadventure. :D

_Stay tuned for Friday, when _Wild Blue Yonder_ comes out! Woot!_


	11. The Sparkle Skirmish: Part One

_A/N: this takes place just before the Jedi Younglings arc of TCW: Season Five. There's also a little bit of swearing in this one...given the subject matter, it was inevitable. ;)_

* * *

><p><strong>The Sparkle Skirmish<strong>

**Part One**

Even through Milo's specialized, cold-weather kit, the moment that the _Wayfarer's _doors opened a blast of icy wind hit him like a punch to the gut, causing him to immediately set the thermals in his gear to a higher temp in order to counteract Ilum's chill. Ahead of him, Kalinda and the captain strode towards the ancient Jedi crystal temple – or caves, he wasn't quite clear on that part – and he wondered if she was cold in her fur-lined snowsuit; he didn't think she had thermals her suit like he and his brothers did.

"Huh," Trax said dryly as they stepped off of the loading ramp, their boots sinking into the snow. "Nice view."

Surrounding Milo were Traxis, Weave and Crest, all of whom began glancing around as they disembarked, taking in what there was to see. At first glance, it wasn't much: snow, ice, mountains, more snow and ice, and...well. Snow. Lots of it.

While he'd seen snow before, Milo had never been to a place like Ilum. At first glance, the snow cast everything in blank, shiny whiteness beneath the blue sky, but the more he looked, the more he thought the snow made the sky's color more vibrant, while the snow itself looked clean and bright, almost welcoming.

"At least it doesn't seem to be as windy as the general prepared us for," Weave said, tilting his head up to get a look at the clear sky.

"Well, I hope the boss doesn't take too long," Crest grumbled as the squad trudged through the drifts; here they were about knee-high, but Milo could see larger, sloping hills nearby, indicating more depth. "This place isn't exactly hospitable."

"I think it's kind of pretty," Milo said, indicating the sweep of white to one side. He felt the others' eyes on him even through their visors and his face grew warm, but he continued. "It's...sparkly."

In his defense, Ilum _was _sparkly, but he knew the moment he said the words that he'd get ridiculed.

He was right.

Immediately, the others – even Weave – broke out into peals of laughter, and Milo sighed beneath his bucket. "Sparkly?" Crest said, a smirk in his voice as he slapped Milo's back hard enough to cause him to stumble forward. "The only thing sparkly around here is your armor, Mi."

At this, Traxis let out a guffaw, though it was swiftly followed by a curse as he stepped into a deeper snowdrift, sinking for one moment to his waist. At the sound, Kalinda and Stonewall turned, the Jedi's brow furrowing as Weave and Milo pulled the squad's weapons expert free of the snow. A moment later, the captain's voice sounded through their comm-channel, faintly amused. "Everything alright?"

"Everything's fine, sir," Crest said in a bright voice. "We're just discussing Ilum's many charms."

"How long is it supposed to take the general to check over the caves?" Weave asked.

There was a sigh over the comm, and Milo thought if Stonewall had been without his helmet the captain would have been pinching the bridge of his nose. "At least three hours, she said. Maybe more."

If Milo hadn't known any better, he thought he detected a hint of annoyance in the captain's tone, but surely it was just his overactive imagination. He shot a glance at the general, but she continued walking along as if oblivious to the clones' conversations – which she likely was – so he decided to ignore the feeling for now.

They reached their destination within a few minutes, and Milo silently lamented the cumbersome snow-gear that made it difficult to move his head enough to see the full height of the rather impressive rock-face before them. As it was, he had to make do with looking at whatever was at eye-level, which was still pretty impressive.

Kalinda stood at the entrance to the cave and waved them over. "I'll be as quick as I can, but it could still take a few hours," she said as she tilted her head towards them; she wore polarized goggles, so all Milo could see was his and his brothers' reflections. "Apparently it's been a while since anyone checked on the crystal caves, and the Council wants to make sure that everything's one hundred percent before they send a bunch of younglings out here."

Weave shifted in place; the snow was not as deep here, but it was still thick. "You're sure we can't go with you?"

"Jedi only, Weave," she replied, her goggles falling on the captain. "Sorry."

"At least three hours of wandering around a bunch of ice-caves, alone," Stonewall muttered. "What could possibly go wrong?"

_Yep_, Milo thought._ Captain's annoyed; he's usually not this sarcastic. _The way that the officer said the words made him think that it was a discussion that the captain and the Jedi had had many times, and had still not managed to find a place of agreement.

"I'm with him," Trax added as he thumbed towards the doorway. "I don't like the idea of anyone crawling around in there, alone."

Crest crossed his arms, or tried to, as the suit was too bulky to allow him to do it very well. "You're sure he can't go, boss? I mean, he's Force-sensitive."

"_Exactly_," the captain said, turning to Kalinda again. "Doesn't that count for anything?"

Only the Jedi's mouth and chin were visible through her gear, and Milo could see her lips purse as if in irritation, though her voice was calm. "Not on Ilum it doesn't. Sorry, Stone; it's Jedi-only, here. I'll have my comlink, though, and I _do _have the Force," she added wryly. "So I'm not completely at nature's mercy." Following this, she gave him a bright smile. "Just relax. It'll be fine."

Milo didn't know much about women, but he'd seen enough of these two to know that all she had to do was smile, and the captain would melt like butter on toast.

Indeed, Stonewall sighed again. "If you say so," he said gruffly, but there was less annoyance and more resignation in the words. "Just be careful."

"Of course." Kalinda smiled at him again, then turned and made her way inside.

Stonewall watched her go before turning back to the others. "Fan out and keep the area secure," he said. "We shouldn't run into trouble, so you're free to take it a little easy. But don't go wandering off; if she needs help, we need to be close at hand."

With that, he moved to stand at the cave's entrance, facing it with his arms crossed as best he could, given the bulk of the cold-weather gear.

As the others made to break apart, Milo felt a nudge at his shoulder. "You heard him, shiny," Crest said with a mild chuckle. "Stay nearby, because if you stray too far...you blend in so well, we might lose sight of you."

"I'm _not_ a shiny," Milo replied, exasperated. "But you _are _a-"

"Cool it, guys," Weave interjected, stepping between them. "Crest, lay off, okay? And Milo...don't encourage him. Crest is just baiting you."

There was a beat of silence, then Traxis gave a cough that sounded suspiciously like the word "sparkly,"and even Weave couldn't keep back a chuckle.

_Oh, for the love of-_

With a sigh, Milo turned away from them and made his way to a section of jagged rocks that were at the top of a little hill, thinking to get a better vantage point over the area and enjoy the scenery – in peace, for Force's sake!

Once he was situated beside the rocks, he glanced around with appreciation. It was pretty here, no matter what the others thought, and there was _nothing _wrong with calling the snow sparkly, because it _was. _It was white and clean and it glittered in the sunlight, and he thought that Ilum was a pretty nice planet, in spite of the frigid temp that necessitated the bulkier gear.

From his vantage point, Milo had a clear view of everyone, though he felt pleasantly protected by the rock formation beside him. He watched as the other clones created a loose formation around the front of the cave's entrance, each of them about fifteen meters from the other, no one facing anyone else. There was no chatter over the comm, as if everyone was glad to have a little bit of a break from one another.

For a little while, it was peaceful.

After the second hour mark, Milo started to get bored. First he tried to ignore the feeling; when it wouldn't go away he checked over the information fed to him by his HUD. He learned that the wind was strong, but not terribly so, and that it was blowing from behind him and to the east.

All of this, he marked the information in the back of his mind as he began to nudge at the snow with the toe of his boot. It was different from the snow he'd encountered before, which had either been powdery, almost dry, or loose, heavy slush piles. This snow seemed to be a combination of the two; dense and moist, but not too much so, and light enough to gather pretty well...

An idea struck him, but he shoved it aside as being silly and childish.

To distract himself, he removed his bucket, wincing at the immediate bite of the wind as it hit his face, though it was refreshing to look at the world with his own eyes. It had been such a long, long trip out here, he was glad to be out in the open air again. An inhale; Ilum smelled clean and bright and cold, and he felt a little better. Milo glanced around again, noting that Trax had removed his bucket as well, perhaps for the same reason. The scarred clone's dark hair stuck out rather clearly against the snow, creating a perfect target.

_You know, should anyone be so inclined- _

The idea returned, with more insistence than before, nibbling at the edges of his mind and refusing to be ignored. _Shab_. There was nothing for it.

But it wasn't Trax who'd really bugged him, was it? Milo's eyes flickered towards Crest, who was facing away from the rest of the clones – as were they all – and he'd also taken his bucket off. It occurred to Milo that the wind would be pretty kriffing cold on Crest's bare skull...as would the snow, should a large amount happened to get dumped on him, for any reason.

His brain shifted to sniper-mode as he glanced between his brothers, calculating trajectories and wind-speeds and estimating the density of the snow at his feet. It would work, he was certain. If not, well, they were brothers-in-arms, and for life, right? What was a little snow-war between brothers?

_Shiny, _he thought with a determined nod to himself as he dropped to his knees and began to scoop up a handful of snow. _I'll give them kriffing shiny._

* * *

><p>Traxis was minding his own business when – out of nowhere and for <em>no <em>reason whatsoever – the back of his head was pelted with something hard, wet and cold. _Very_ kriffing cold.

Adrenaline began racing through his veins as his battle-honed instincts kicked in, and he whirled around to face his attacker, head-on.

But there was nothing but air and empty snow.

Well, his brothers were there, too, but none of them were at an appropriate distance to have thrown a snowball and hit him so hard, so for a moment he was puzzled. His scalp stung just a little from the cold and the wind, but it was enough to annoy him further as he glared at each of them: Weave's head was tilted as if he was staring at the sky, which he might've been, knowing the medic; Stonewall might have been suspect with his Force-abilities, but all of his attention still seemed firmly fixed on the caves, and Trax figured that the officer was too focused on the Jedi to think to throw a snowball at anyone.

Milo was on a little hill, and he may have been close enough to have reached Trax, but he, too, appeared to be looking at something else in the distance – probably admiring the sparkly snow. Besides, Milo was...

Well, he was a good kid, but he didn't start fights.

That left one man.

Leaving his bucket where he'd set it down, Traxis began striding across the snow, working to make each step forceful while still avoiding any drifts, and he kept his eyes glued to the bald clone, who'd also shucked his helmet and was standing a little _too _casually, gloved hand shading his eyes as he looked suspiciously in another direction. Just like the rest of them.

_Awfully convenient, huh? _Well, baldy wasn't that great of an actor. Trax knew _all _of his tricks by now, and he'd be damned if he'd let Crest get away with this one.

The moment Crest marked Trax's approach, he turned and lifted his hand in greeting. "Hey, brother, what's-"

"You," Traxis growled, thrusting his index finger towards the other clone. "Are _seriously_ in for a beating."

Crest's expression was utterly bewildered. "Huh?"

"Nice try, but no one buys the innocent act from you," Traxis added; it only took him a few seconds to drop to his knees, collect a handful of snow and dump it without ceremony on the bald clone's head.

"What the...hey!" Crest's words broke off with a sputter as the snow covered his face and mouth, but Trax hardly gave him a chance to recover as he bent to gather more of it. "_Trax_!"

Traxis swore he heard someone laughing, but he ignored the sound as he formed a rough sphere with his handful of snow, then proceeded to lob it at his brother as hard as he could. Crest yelled again, his hands lifting to shield his face from the onslaught, though it wasn't long before Trax had run out of snow-ammo.

For a moment they stood facing each other, breathing hard, then Crest shook his head and shoulders, sending chunks of snow scattering to the ground. "What the hell, man?"

There were footsteps behind them; Trax marked the approach of Milo and Weave but ignored them as he glared at Crest. "Oh, please," Traxis said, rolling his eyes. "Still with the innocent act?"

Milo broke in. "Guys, what are you-"

"It's not a kriffing act," Crest shot back, ignoring the younger clone. "You _attacked _me for no reason! I'm a helpless victim!"

Traxis gave a bark of laughter, but Weave stepped between them, placing a hand on each of their chests; the medic had also removed his helmet, and when he looked at each of them, Trax got the distinct impression that he was amused.

_Interesting. _

"Guys, calm down," the medic said, glancing towards Stonewall, who seemed not to have noticed the kerfuffle. "Can't we stand watch for a few hours without descending into childish behavior?"

"He started it!" Crest said, pointing at Trax. "Crazy barve just ran over here, yelling, then attacked me!"

"Like _hell_ I started, it," Traxis countered. "Someone hit me with a snowball, and _you're_ the most obvious choice."

Weave made a noise of exasperation. "Wait, wait...you don't even _know _who hit you, you just assumed it was Crest?"

Unease flared through Trax as he frowned. At the time, his reasoning had been pretty solid, but Weave made it sound otherwise. "Well-"

"See?" Crest protested, lifting his hands. "It's a vendetta against an innocent man. I'm positively _incensed_."

"Oh, shut up," Trax said, rolling his eyes again. "You deserve it, just for talking like you're in a crinking holo-film."

At this, Milo started coughing, his face turning bright red as he looked away from the others, and Weave began to thump at his back.

"Trax, did you _really_ get hit with a snowball?" the medic asked once Milo's coughing fit had ended. "I mean, maybe it was a gust of wind or something. There's got to be a logical explanation, right?"

Traxis leveled a dark look on his brother, considering. Weave was generally a pretty even-tempered guy, but there was an old saying: _it's the quiet ones that cause the most trouble. _"I'm pretty sure that no gust of wind is capable of throwing a chunk of snow at the back of my head, _vod," _he said, frowning. "Why are you so quick to 'explain' it, anyway?"

"Yeah, that's right," Crest added, his own eyes narrowing at the medic. "What _are_ you hiding?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Trax noted that Milo looked alarmed at the words, but Weave only lifted his hands. "I didn't throw a snowball at anyone," he said with a shake of his head. "Why would I bother? It's not like it'd knock any sense into either of you."

Traxis looked at Crest. Crest looked at Traxis. Something wordless passed between them, and they turned their attention back to the medic, who'd taken a step back. Milo cleared his throat, but Trax ignored the shiny as he stepped towards Weave. "'Childish behavior,' eh?"

Crest was grinning. "We'll show you childish, _vod."_

"Uh...guys?"

"Not now, shiny," Traxis said, bending to scoop up another handful of snow; Weave's eyes widened, and the scarred clone felt a thrill of satisfaction, one that was heightened when he watched Crest grab a portion of snow as well, and they exchanged another look. _Payback time. _

There was a pause, then Milo spoke again, his voice louder and a little more insistent. "Guys-"

But Crest was shaking his head; like Trax, his hand was lifting to lob his snowball at Weave, whose eyes were darting around as if searching for a means of escape. "Can it, Sparkles."

Right before Trax released his snowball, Milo's voice sounded again, with an edge he'd never heard before. "'Sparkle' this!"

"What the-" Traxis turned towards the younger clone, but all he saw was a pure, white, sparkly snowball flying directly for his face.

* * *

><p><em>Thirty seconds later...<em>

Weave ducked behind the rock formation, narrowly avoiding a spray of snow lobbed from Traxis' direction, his heart pounding in his chest as adrenaline worked its way through his veins. Each inhale sucked frigid air in his lungs, but he hardly noticed. In the background, he could hear Crest shouting at Milo – mostly unprintable words – though there was exhilaration in his brother's tone as well. Taking a deep breath, the medic scrambled to collect a handful of snow, thankful that his gloves allowed him to get a decent grip on the stuff while preventing his hands from going numb.

"You can't hide, Weave," Traxis shouted, his voice huffed as if he was running. Which he probably was.

Snowball in hand, Weave leaped to his feet and threw the projectile towards the scarred clone, taking no small amount of pleasure as it met its mark – Trax's forehead. But even the snow crumbling around his face did not stop Trax from running – only slowed his pace a fraction – so Weave took the opportunity to flee and bolted down the hillock.

"Get back here," Trax called, his steps crunching over the snow.

Weave managed a glance over his shoulder, marking the distance between them that his brother was rapidly closing, so he urged his body to run faster. Exhilaration kicked in on the heels of the adrenaline, and he felt a grin come to his face. "Make me, Trax!"

Childish it may have been, but Weave thought the snowball fight was the most fun any of them had had within the last month. Beyond them, he could see that Crest had knocked Milo to the ground and was in the process of shoveling heaps of snow on the younger man's head, yelling something about _payback._

There wasn't much in the way of cover out here, but there were a few other rock formations scattered about, and it was towards one of these that Weave made a beeline. Just as he was a few meters from his goal, he felt something cold and wet smack against his neck, followed by another, and another.

_Kriff! How did he manage-_

Another snowball hit his neck – _smack_. With that, Weave stopped in his tracks, suddenly determined to face his brother head-on, but before he could do so, an all-too-familiar voice broke through the air, effectively halting everyone in his movements.

"What in the nine Corellian hells are the lot of you _doing_?"

It was the captain, and he sounded...not thrilled.

As the team's medic and second-highest ranking member, it was Weave's job to keep order when Stonewall wasn't around, which explained why the captain was striding towards _him, _a very unpleasant look on his face as his bucket swung at his hip. However, rather than confront the medic directly, Stonewall paused about five meters from his position, so that he was more or less in the center of the group.

"Get your _shebse_ over here," the captain barked. "Now."

No one spoke, but they all got to their feet and scrambled towards the officer; once they'd collected around him, panting from their exertions, Stonewall regarded each of them for a long moment. "I know I said you could take it a little easy-"

"Mi started it," Crest interjected, thumbing towards the younger clone, whose rolled his eyes. "He hit Trax with a snowball and tried to frame me."

Stonewall's eyes flickered to Traxis, who nodded but said nothing.

"You deserved it, for all the 'sparkly' comments," Milo replied at once. "Fair's fair."

If Weave hadn't known any better, he'd have thought that Stonewall was fighting back a laugh, though the officer's expression was still quite stern as he glanced at Weave. "And you joined in because...?"

Trax coughed. Crest snickered. Weave took a deep breath, feeling heat creep to his face. "Because...it was fun."

"Fun?" Stonewall sounded amused, and now Weave was certain that he was trying not to laugh. "Hmm...not sure I understand."

At this, Milo gave the captain an incredulous look that was pure "shiny," reminding Weave of the clone in his earliest days. "You don't understand 'fun,' sir?"

"Doubtful," Crest broke in. "He's got other...er, ways of entertaining himself on a long flight." Even as he said the words, however, the bald clone's face colored as Stonewall lifted a brow. However, Crest cleared his throat and continued, sounding nearly prim. "Not all of us have someone to keep us warm, Captain. We've got to find other ways to...er..."

Traxis rubbed his face with his glove. "Just...stop talking, already."

"No, Trax," Stonewall replied in a suspiciously reasonable tone. "Crest is right about finding other methods to keep yourselves entertained. It's important to adapt to new circumstances, after all."

As the captain spoke, Weave noted that his hands were relaxed at his sides and his expression was calm, but concentrating. Sort of like how it got when-

_Oh, shab. _The medic tried to yell a warning but it was too late. "Guys-"

Snow pelted the back of his head, not terribly hard, but the sudden shock of the cold, wet substance on his skull made his breath grow short, and adrenaline leaped through his veins again. Before he could react, however, he was hit with another barrage, and another, forcing him to try and duck out of the way.

The captain's Force-formed snowballs were not perfectly round or particularly compact, and in another circumstance, Weave might have considered that such a thing was due to the fact that Stonewall was still trying to learn how to wield the strange energy, but right now all he gave a kriff about was getting away. The snowballs may not have been well-formed, but they were large and they could fly, and they did.

Right at the heads of the squad-members.

Beside him, he heard the others' exclamations of shock, curses and yelps undercut with the captain's sudden, incongruous laughter, and they all began to scramble in an attempt to escape the onslaught. Within moments, they'd split up; Weave and Milo managed to dart behind the nearest rock formation, while Trax and Crest were still in the open, trying to put some more distance between themselves and the levitating chunks of snow. In his haste to get away, the bald clone lost his balance and fell to the ground; the snowball that had been following him landed squarely on his face.

"Cheater!" Crest sputtered, hands still raised to shield himself from the impact that had already happened, or perhaps another. "That is _totally_ unfair!"

"Agreed," Traxis called out from several paces away, having apparently abandoned Crest to his fate. "No Force-tricks allowed, _sir_."

Stonewall said nothing, but Weave thought it was probably impossible to speak when one was doubled over, clutching his sides and laughing his ass off.

Milo spoke from beside the medic, his voice hushed. "Come on, _vod_. We can take him."

Glancing over, Weave saw that the sniper had been hard at work; he had a small pile of snowballs at his feet, and was packing more with each moment. At his look, Milo gave a grin that was far too devious for a shiny and nodded towards the captain, who was still laughing as he watched Crest and Trax. "_Now_, while he's distracted."

Normally, Weave was not inclined to mess with the officer, but Stonewall definitely had it coming, now. Another glance at the area showed Weave that his squad-mates were still trying to get out of range of the captain's snowballs, which had started to form again, so he held out his hand, grinning as Mi plopped a snowball in his palm.

It was _so_ on.

* * *

><p><em>Part two next Friday! :)<br>_


	12. The Sparkle Skirmish: Part Two

**The Sparkle Skirmish**

**Part Two**

_One minute later..._

Admittedly, Force-thrown snowballs _may_ have been unsportsmanlike, but the shocked looks on his men's faces was priceless, and definitely worth it. Besides, it was every clone's duty to use what he'd been granted, genetically or otherwise, to his advantage, and Stonewall was under no illusions that if any of his brothers had Force-powers in this situation, they'd be chucking snowballs left and kriffing right.

As Milo had said, _fair's fair._

"You were right, Weave," he called, lobbing another snowball at the squad medic as they sprinted across the open ground. "This _is_ fun."

He'd thrown that one with the Force, but he also had another, more tightly-packed projectile in his hands, waiting to go, which he then tossed at the other man, who dodged it rather neatly by executing a textbook-perfect roll along the snowy ground. When Weave was upright again, he glanced back at the captain, grinning. "You'll have to do better than that, Stonewall."

Before he could reply the Force trilled a warning; Stonewall ducked but was too late to avoid a spray of snow from behind him, from Milo's direction, where the sniper was still situated behind one of the jagged rock formations. The snow impacted against his face, obscuring his vision with white, wet and cold, and somehow managing to slip past the close fitting edge of his body-glove to trickle down his back.

_That little-_

Forgetting Weave for the moment, Stonewall spun around, searching for the younger man, who'd ducked the moment the captain had turned, making it impossible to see him, just now.

There was a yelp from several meters to his right, followed by a rather impressive collection of swears from the medic as Crest tackled him; the captain heard the impact of both men as they collapsed to the snowy terrain, but his attention was now on the sniper.

Perhaps if he'd been more adept with the Force, Stonewall could have used it to sense his brother's location, but he was too exhilarated to do more than gather his strength for another snow-toss, because when he found Milo...the kid had it coming.

"There he is!" Traxis' voice caused Stonewall to turn, towards a flash of white gear as the younger clone bolted from his hiding spot and began to race for another, nearby hill, one that was close by the entrance to the crystal caves.

Stonewall glanced at his scarred brother; an unspoken sort of truce struck up between them and they both launched themselves across the open ground and after Milo. The younger man was fast and he would have made it to the relative safety of the hill – at least gaining the high ground – but for the fact that he stepped in an unstable snow-drift and went down with a yelp, though he immediately tried to get upright again, scrambling against the ground.

But it was too late. Within a moment, Traxis and Stonewall had descended upon him; the captain grabbed Milo's ankle and pulled him towards them while Trax began shoveling heaping handfuls of snow against his face.

"_Fek_," Milo sputtered as Stonewall released his ankle and began aiding Traxis in blanketing the younger man. "Guys-"

"You sneaky little _chakaar,_" Traxis replied, dumping another handful of snow on Mi's head. "It's wrong to set your brothers up, Sparkles."

_Sparkles? _ Confused, Stonewall glanced at his scarred brother but Trax ignored him and bent to gather another portion of snow. Beneath them, Milo seemed to sense the captain's momentary lapse in attention and broke out of Stonewall's hold, struggled to his feet, and continued racing for the hillock, where there was another outcropping of rocks.

As he and Trax hurried after him, the captain could still hear Weave and Crest going at it; from the sounds of things, the medic had managed to extricate himself from the ordnance man's grasp and was returning fire with gusto as he made his way for Milo's position, perhaps thinking along the same lines as Trax and Stonewall: teaming up brought more effective results. Huffing, Crest met up with Stonewall and Trax as well, and the three of them descended upon Weave, who himself was on Milo's heels.

The medic and the sniper both ducked behind the rocks and immediately began to hurl handfuls of snow at their pursuers, who paused several meters away and started to return fire.

Snowballs flew through the air, both Force-aided and propelled by clone-hands, along with a selection of curses, jeers and good-natured insults that got progressively more graphic with each throw. Stonewall's breath was growing a little short, his cheeks, face and forehead were freezing but not quite numb enough to not feel the stinging remnants of the snowballs, and his body was filled with energy from the mock-battle, but he still managed to concentrate enough to use the Force to levitate handful after handful of snow and guide it towards his brothers.

For several moments, everything was white, snowy chaos.

Then he heard Kali's voice and everyone went utterly still. "I see you guys found a way to pass the time."

Breathing hard, now, Stonewall turned to her, noting that the others did as well, and he watched as her mouth curved into a smile; he was struck with relief and delight that she was safe and with him again, and also that she was wearing such a fetching outfit, a far cry from her Jedi-robes.

It was too bad he couldn't see her eyes through the goggles, but her amusement was clearly discernible through the Force, which made him grin as he replied. "We're capable."

Her smile widened and he suddenly felt warm all over; hopefully her mission was done, which meant that they could return to the ship, where he could help her out of that snow-suit, which, while form-fitting and attractive, covered far too much of her.

"But I would be remiss if I didn't ask if you were using the Force to...throw snowballs at the men under your command?" she added, her smile taking on a teasing edge that he knew well.

The others started snickering, but Stonewall ignored them. "Yes. Is that against protocol?"

"Oh, most definitely," she said with a cheerful nod.

That was when Milo chimed in. "The captain used the Force to attack us without warning, too!"

"He called us over, then surprised us with a snowball Force attack," Weave added, his breath still a little short, puffs of it spiraling in the air before him. "That's got to be against regs."

Kalinda's head tilted towards the medic and the sniper, but when she spoke, her words were directed towards Stonewall. "Using the Force for such nefarious purposes," she chided, clucking her tongue. "Attacking your own soldiers...really, Captain?"

"There are no regs for Force-use among clones," he pointed out. "And the Jedi Code doesn't apply to non-Jedi, Kali." They'd had quite a few discussions on the matter during the trip out here, so he thought he was within his rights to remind her of that fact.

"And," he added, shooting a knowing look at Milo. _The little sneak. _"They were asking for it."

Kali shook her head, the sunlight catching on her goggles and flashing with the movement. "That doesn't matter." She gave a heavy, overly dramatic sigh that was punctuated first by Weave's swift intake of breath, then the sound of a gloved hand smacking the medic's arm. "Now I have no choice but to teach you a lesson, Stone."

He couldn't help himself; his brow lifted and he gave her his most alluring smile, the kind that he knew she loved. "Ah, good. I _like_ your lessons. Very much."

Crest's voice was alarmed. "Uh, Captain-"

But all of his focus was on the woman he loved as she smiled, bright and beautiful, and then the entire back of his head was pummeled with something wet and kriffing cold.

Immediately, he swore and ducked out of pure instinct, but it was not enough to avoid a nearly-crippling barrage of snow, and in the background – along with his brothers' laughter – he heard her voice, honey-sweet. "As far as lessons go, Stonewall, you might not like this one."

* * *

><p><em>Two minutes later...<em>

"Kriffing hell, Captain," Crest hissed, ducking to avoid a spray of snow as it pummeled the rock behind his head. He'd been trying to make out the other team's exact location, but hadn't had an opportunity to do more than snag a quick glance around the area. "You _had_ to go and try and flirt your way out of trouble, didn't you?"

Beside him, Stonewall was ducking as well; there were flecks of snow caught on his brows and in the fringe of his hair. "Can't blame a man for trying."

"Maybe not," Crest replied, cursing again as he was hit by another backlash of broken snow. "But next time you should try thinking with a different head."

Stonewall made a noise of annoyance, but he didn't argue. "It may have backfired," he admitted at last, wincing as yet another barrage hurled towards them. "But she-"

"Less talk, more snowballs," Trax broke in from Crest's other side, where he was preparing to lob off another round. "They're going to win if you both keep yammering away like a couple of old Bothans."

Crest could hear the jeers of the others as they urged his team to "come out of hiding," and "take their beating like men," and various other phrases that were not fit for polite company, much less a Jedi. Half of what she was saying was in languages he'd never heard, and while he applauded her creativity, he didn't want to think too hard about what kind of names he and the others were being called – all in good fun, of course. Weave and Milo, while not having her knowledge of so many languages, were no slouches when it came to this type of thing, and it didn't help matters that their confidence was spurred by the presence of their general.

_She's really egging them on, _he thought, glancing at the captain, who was rolling his eyes at whatever she'd just called him; he thought it was Huttese, but it was hard to be sure. _Not that I didn't know she had it in her, but wow._

Personally, Crest thought that there was no finer Jedi around than Kalinda Halcyon, but with a mouth like that...well, it was no wonder she wasn't on the Council.

Nope, the odds were _not _in his team's favor; the sniper's accuracy was unmatched and the boss' Jedi-abilities were far and away better than the captain's. But there was nothing for it, the divisions were made, the lines were drawn, and Crest felt a swell of determination to _win _this, so he gathered another handful of snow and began packing it tightly.

"Come on, _vode,_" he said, ignoring another spray of snow behind his head. "Let's show 'em what we're made of."

Traxis made a noise of agreement, and began packing together as many snowballs as he could, as quickly as he could. "Captain, how many do you think you can throw at one time with the Force?"

Crest missed Stonewall's reply, as he'd straightened in order to heft a round at their opponents, noting with satisfaction that his aim was true, catching Weave smack in the face. When he crouched back down again, he noted that both Trax and Stonewall were grinning dangerously.

Excitement curled within him as he looked between his brothers. "Alright: what's the plan?"

"_Ambush_," they said in unison, and Crest found himself grinning, too.

* * *

><p><em>Moments later...<em>

"They're going to try an ambush. I can feel it," Kalinda said, closing her eyes just for a moment as she pushed her goggles onto the top of her head.

When she opened her eyes again, Milo was gaping at her. The younger clone been in the act of packing together a stack of snowballs, but at her words, he'd looked up. "You can tell that with the Force...?"

"Not quite," she laughed. Had she been focusing on the rest of her men and not the lobbing of snowballs she might have been able to sense such intent, but her awareness was rather narrow at the moment. Additionally, her Huttese was rather rusty; hopefully, she'd gotten her point across to Stonewall. _Thinking he can flirt with me and get his way, the scoundrel. _"But it seems the most logical option for them."

"That's true," Weave said thoughtfully. "Between you and Milo, we have the long-range advantage."

Leaning up on her knees, Kali peered over the edge of the rock formation behind which she and her mini-team had taken shelter, searching for Stone and the others. There! About thirty meters away, behind another rock-formation. She could see them, gathering up snowballs and getting to their feet as if preparing to charge, and a brush with the Force confirmed their intent.

There was also an almost wild abandon to the mood of all the clones, and she didn't blame any of them; part of the feeling was because she knew that it was difficult for _anyone_, let along a group of active young men, to be cooped up on a little ship like the _Wayfarer _for any length of time. Of the squad, only Stonewall had the opportunity to expend his energy in other ways, and while Kali didn't mind that part – far from it – she knew that the others went a little stir-crazy sometimes, especially after a long trip like the one to Ilum.

The other reason for their feeling was because this was a blast, and she chided herself for not thinking of an activity like this sooner. For the clones, it was the perfect recipe for fun: all the thrill of battle with no one getting shot at, which was why she'd thrown herself into the situation with gusto.

"Get ready, guys," she said, glancing back between Weave and Milo. "We're going to meet them, head-on."

"Aye, sir," Milo replied, snapping off a crisp salute that made her chuckle. "They're going _down_."

Weave nodded as well, a grin on his normally composed face, which she returned. Moments later, they each had an armful of snow-ammo, and not a moment too soon, as Kali could feel the ground starting to tremble. In the moment before she and her mini-squad started running, she took in the sight and thought – not for the first time since she'd started working with these men – that she was thankful they were all on the same side, normally.

It was an impressive sight: Stonewall, Crest and Traxis in full, cold-weather gear – minus their helmets – barreling directly towards her across the swathes of snowy ground; three fully-grown, armored men with one single purpose, one clear goal, one intent, and they were fast approaching. As they ran, she could hear them yelling something in Mando'a that she couldn't think to translate, right now.

The moment they saw her and the others, they began lobbing a veritable hail of snowballs, so that chunks of snow and ice impacted all around Kali, though none hit her, just yet. She figured that would change, soon, but was determined to win this round. Milo and Weave sprang up on either side of her, and just before she used the Force to send a pile of snow towards her captain, she called out, "show no mercy!"

They didn't.

* * *

><p><em>Several minutes later...<em>

Once the groups met in the middle of the open snow, everything became a blur.

Milo knew at once that any advantage he and his team had had – save the General's greater Force-ability – was lost in the open ground, and that their opponents had the advantage of being physically stronger. But he was no slouch, and his aim was fantastic whether he was running or holding still, so he thought he was making a pretty fair showing for himself.

First shot: it had landed squarely in the center of Trax's chest with enough force to knock the weapons expert back a few paces.

Fourth shot: this one had caught the crown of Crest's head, which was actually a perfect target, as his bare scalp glinted in the sunlight. Later on, Milo didn't remember exactly what he'd yelled as he'd hit the ordnance man, but he was pretty sure it had included something along the lines of "who's shiny, now?" and a few new words he'd picked up from the general.

Seventh shot: Milo was rather proud of that one. It'd smacked the captain's forehead, right when his mouth had been open to call out something to the Jedi. Stonewall had gotten a face _and _mouthful of snow, and whatever he'd been going to say had been lost in a sputter.

Since the pace of the battle had picked up, no one had time to form true snowballs; they had to suffice with throwing handfuls of snow, wild chunks that burst on impact and slithered down one's neck, and the air was filled with what looked like sprays of white powder. There wasn't even enough time for the Force-users to do much damage with the strange energy, and everyone was on a more common – if also more chaotic – ground.

Presently, Milo was engaged in close combat with Crest and Stonewall, while Traxis and Weave were several meters away from the melee. Crest lunged; Stonewall swiped at him at the same time. Thankfully Milo was agile, able to duck out of their reach at the last possible moment, otherwise the two older clones would have nabbed him again, and he was in no hurry to repeat _that_ particular experience.

Milo wasn't quite sure where their Jedi was, but he hoped she had a plan of some kind, as he had his own _shebs _to worry about, what with the captain and Crest ganging up on him.

Luckily, it didn't last too long.

Even though the captain had the Force, Milo thought that all of his energy was being taken up with avoiding heaps of incoming snow, which was why he didn't notice the Jedi until it was too late. A blur of something white and a little furry – her snowsuit – collided with Stonewall as she leaped on his back and plopped a huge measure of snow on his head, laughing as she did so.

In response, the captain reached around to grab her, but she'd placed herself rather perfectly on his back, and with his limited mobility in the cold-weather gear, he was unable to do much more than flail his arms uselessly.

"Milo, Weave," she called out. "Attack!"

It was the perfect opportunity; she'd created enough of a distraction to cause everyone's attention to shift to her and Stonewall, but at her words Milo dropped, gathered more snow, and began pelting it at the officer as hard as he could, perfect aim be damned. Weave started to do much the same thing, and for a few breathless moments they lobbed as much snow as they could at the captain; the Jedi ducked her head to avoid any friendly-fire, but a few flecks still got caught in her dark hair, as her hood had fallen back from around her face.

But it didn't last long.

Crest and Trax, though Milo thought that they were torn between throwing snow-ammo at their captain too, apparently decided to remain loyal to his command and came up with a plan of their own.

Distracted as he was, Milo didn't see Crest's incoming tackle until it was too late. One second he was upright, cocking his arm in order to send off a particularly hard throw; the next, the sky and ground were tumbling in his vision and his breath was short, and he was on the ground, rolling over and upside-down. He barely got a chance to shout, though, because the bald clone was shoveling snow on his face, even trying to work it into his body-glove, where he'd remained unscathed, so far.

"Taste that, Sparkles?" Crest hollered as Milo got a mouthful of snow. "That's the cold, wet taste of defeat!"

But Milo refused to give in; bracing himself as best he could against the ground, he shoved out with his feet and pushed his brother away, then scrambled to his feet. "Nice try," he said with a grin. "But not good enough, baldy."

"No kriffing way," Trax called from nearby, where he was still pelting Stonewall. "Only _I'm _allowed to call him that, shiny!"

Before anyone could say anything further, however, a feminine shriek met their ears; turning, Milo watched as Stonewall dropped to his knees and canted his body forward, effectively tossing the Jedi to the ground. She never made it, though, as the captain caught her neatly and held her tight against his chest, grinning wickedly at her while he bent to scoop up a handful of snow with his free hand. Squirming in his grip, Kalinda gave another shriek of laughter, adding a few protests as well, even though Milo thought she wasn't _really_ trying to escape.

But Stonewall ignored her pleas.

"Payback time, General," he said in a bright voice, then proceeded to dump the lot of it down the back of her suit, causing her to squeal and wriggle in his grasp.

Of course, they were all distracted by this, which was when Weave – Milo wondered if the saying was true and the quiet ones _were _the most devious – took the opportunity to pelt Trax with another snowball, and chaos reigned once more.

By the time Shadow Squad left Ilum, the sun was sinking below the horizon. As they clambered aboard the _Wayfarer, _knocking snow off their boots and brushing it off of each other's backs, all that anyone could think about was a hot shower, a warm change of clothes, and a nice, steaming cup of caf, all of which were arranged in fairly short order.

All in all, it was one of their most successful missions.

* * *

><p><em>Thank you so much for reading! :)<em>


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